Condemned Episode 1
by writingcreature
Summary: A serial killer threatens Don but it's only the tip of the iceberg. Something terrible happens. Don's life and the life of his loved ones will change dramatically. Not related to any shown eppesode
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:  
**The characters belong to CBS. I own nothing. I just like to play along with the characters for the delight of the readers.

**Synopsis:  
**A serial killer threatens Don but it's only the tip of the iceberg. Something terrible happens. Don's life and the life of his loved ones will change dramatically.

**Categorie:  
**Angst/Dark:

**Rated:  
**MA

**NUMB3RS**

**Condemned – Episode 1**

**Prologue**

__

He sat crouched in a corner, surrounded by complete darkness. How long had he been here? He could not tell. Had it been days, weeks? Drip, drip, drip, if they did not manage to drive him insane then it would be that noise that undoubtedly would. He was freezing, it was damp, cold and it stank. Apart from jeans and a t-shirt, he wore nothing more on his mistreated body. They had smashed him brutally while laughing hysterically. The flap at the door opened, somebody shoved through a tray and switched on the light: a bare bulb. He wasn't hungry but he had to drink something. A cup of water stood on the tray. At least they did not intend to let him die of thirst. Not yet. When he straightened up slowly he felt an agonizing pain in his lungs, which forced him into the knees once more. It seemed to last forever before he had accomplished his goal of taking a long drink. He couldn't tell what was on the plate. He put the tray aside, disgusted. The door suddenly opened and a giant man entered. His face was covered with a ski mask and he was dressed in black battledress, "I assume our kitchen does not fit your high standards", he grumbled. "It's okay." Then he kicked roughly at him, removed the tray and switched off the light. The door fell crashing back against the lock. Charlie lay on his back and stared into the darkness. The kick to his side had hurt. He hardly dared to breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something beautiful: Amita with her big dark eyes, her soft lips. It almost tore his heart apart. Would he ever see her again? With all his might he fought the ascending despair, the lump in his throat seemed to take his breath away and tears welled up in his eyes. "Don't give up Charlie", he encouraged himself, "Don will find you for sure."

_His brother had always taken care of him even though they often squabbled. And he, Charlie, would not easily give in. No way. He would resist as long as he could. They were shaking the door again and he gave a start. Somebody put something through the slit of the door. He then heard a roaring. He was suddenly hit by a hard, icy-cold jet of water. It was useless for him to squeeze against the wall. After a couple of minutes the torture came to an end. A voice, sounding muffled by the door, sneered, "Good night Eppes". He did not know whether he would freeze to death there and then or whether the hard jet had peeled the skin off his bones. His teeth chattered and he shivered continually. How long would he be able to bear this? Somewhere along the line he closed his eyes exhausted and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. _

**Chapter 1 **

_Two weeks earlier_

The students and professors of the CalSci had taken part in a nationwide competition in the subjects mathematics, astrophysics and quantum mechanics and actually ranked first. This was of course worthy of a gigantic party to celebrate and therefore the ballroom of the university was adapted accordingly. Charlie came to the conclusion he must have had a screw loose but it was already too late. He stood on a ladder which for him was a dizzy height and tried to place garlands and balloons under Amitas instructions specifically. He couldn't think what had come over him when she paid him a visit this morning and asked him with her big eyes like a deer and her gentle voice to support her energetically. There was something about Amita that prevented him from saying "no", in marked contrast to the other way round. It didn't work well, basically not at all. He would still have to work on it. She still opposed his desire for her to move in with him. He had tried all sorts of things, used all powers of persuasions, however: no chance.

Amita yelled, "you have done quite a good job, Charlie!" and gave him two thumbs up.

"You have done quite a good job, Charlie!" he mimicked her and pulled a grimace.

"I would still put the blue balloon a little more to the left. To the left Charlie, that's the wrong side."

There is nothing to it, standing and talking from below. Above, the air was much thinner and his legs felt as if they were made of rubber. He wasn't aspired to higher things. He was more one of those down-to-earth fellows. The roller skate group had just rehearsed its show next to him. The boys and girls were brilliant. And the music that was coming out of the speakers put everyone in a good mood, too.

They drove in formation and made jumps etc. Amita fooled around with the students who filled helium into the balloons on the ground while Charlie felt like doing an egg dance.

"Great that you're having fun down there," Charlie snapped.

Amita took a deep breath from the balloon and answered with a Mickey Mouse voice, "you had the choice, between blowing them up and hang up."

Charlie had trouble to remain serious, "I thought I had to blow them up by myself, you had not mentioned a word about the thing there."

One of the students was too overenthusiastic. There was a deafening bang in the hall. After that in turn a couple of people from the roller skate group were frightened and came off the concept.

"Everything is under control?" Larry called to make himself perceivable.

"Of course," Amita nodded and held out a balloon to him, "wanna try?"

Larry took a look at it as if he had any extraterrestrial species in front of him.

"I do not know I think I am already too old for something like that."

Everyone suddenly called chorus: "Larry, Larry, Larry!" He could shirk now by no means.

The roller skating group simply did not keep the situation under control any longer. And so it happened that one of the girls was heading directly for the ladder on which Charlie was standing. She was so panic-stricken that she completely forgot to brake. Charlie who had taken meticulousness care to get a garland around an ugly pipe didn't realize anything.

First, he didn't know what happened to him when the ladder started staggering dubiously. Charlie felt of all things downwards for the song "Here I go again on my own" from Whitesnake. With a loud yell he jumped off the ladder before this one touched the floor. Instinctively he rolled up and landed perfectly. People expressed their recognition with frenetic applause and howling loudly. Amita and Larry ran to him.

"Everything ok?" the two asked unison in Mickey Mouse sound.

Charlie could not help an outburst of laughter.

Admission was shortly before eight p.m. People pushed at the entrances, everybody wanted to be the first one inside. Within minutes the hall had filled with cheerful people. The DJ did the rest with sweeping songs. The bass boomed from the big loudspeakers. Some got on the dance floor at once, others still had to give themselves Dutch courage. One of them was Larry.

"That is already your third punch now," Charlie exhorted him, "I think you should meet Megan sober."

Larry guilty put the cup back, "I was not even so nervous before my flight to space."

"Pardon me, why is he nervous?" Don who had just arrived asked.

"What do you think?" Charlie meant and raised significantly the eyebrows.

"Um, well I see," Don meant and helped himself to some punch.

"Megan has bought a new dress for herself for tonight. Do you think my outfit can compete with hers?"

Charlie and Don sized him up, then looked at each other and shook their heads, "forget it."

Larry became paler, "I'm in urgent need of a punch."

When Amita entered the hall she seemed to attract whole attention. She wore a Bordeaux red cocktail dress made of satin which clanged to her figure perfectly. Charlie's jaw dropped literally.

"You, you, look ... er ... actually ... simply fantastic ", he stammered.

Don winked at her appreciating. Larry nodded nervously and craned his neck when a new bulk of people came in. One single look sufficed to recognize Megan in the crowd. She had pinned her hair up and a couple of single curls swirled about her face. She took second place only to Amita. She wore a deep blue case dress and could have easily given Audrey Hepburn competition without problems in "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

"If I were AD, this would be your new working dress as of now", Don smirked and hugged her.

"Hands off the Lady, she belongs to me," Larry said determinedly.

"Okay," Megan was amused.

Charlie leant over to her, "this, for certain comes from the punch."

Wanting Megan alone for himself, Larry linked arms with her and moved her away from the others.

"I honestly do not know him at all," Don smirked.

"Due to your profession you should actually know, what influence alcohol has on the character of some people," Charlie teased him.

"I know what it does to you," Don gave back quick-wittedly, "could tell some rather interesting stories to Amita..."

"I prefer to tell her these things myself dear bro."

Then he turned to Amita, "I am sorry I could not welcome you properly."

"You mean something like one hand here and the other one …" she breathed, put the arms around his neck.

"Yes, exactly, I..."

"Shut up Charlie," she muttered.

Charlie thought he may lose the ground underneath his feet when their lips met. At first they kissed in a behaved manor but when Charlie's ears started to glow and he felt the reaction of her body by the extremely thin satin, he would have liked nothing more than to disappear with her into the next laboratory.

Don turned away, a little embarrassed. He was on a solo path at the moment, like most of the time. Here would surrender to nothing well almost nothing, could it be that he seemed out-of-place to himself a little being just shy of his mid forties?

On the other hand what would say Larry then? Didn't matter, he had Megan. A quiet suspicion crept into his thoughts, was he on the edge of the famous midlife crisis, in which men began to do strange things? For instance buying big expensive cars or learning how to play golf? Well, he was a good golfer by the way. What did they say about a man who wasn't able to satisfy the needs of his wife, you'll find him at the golf court? He frowned.

Perhaps he should talk with his dad about it. At his age he had relived one youth after the other. Milly was obviously good for him. They had returned home from their Venice journey only yesterday. Good ole Alan had her, as former city planner, sure described the advantages of the lagoon town and the style required for it detailed. Perhaps at a trip in a gondola and following in the hotel... Don told himself to come to his senses, now it was getting kinky.

Both joined them almost as if on key.

"Hello Boys, hello Amita, pleased to meet you," Alan greeted friendly.

Milly grinned from ear to ear and looked just ... satisfied.

"Finally stop the bullshit, Don," he thought in quiet.

"Hi Dad, hi Milly, you look sat ... I mean great."

Don looked into his cup, "what devilishly ingredients did you pour into this punch?"

Amita laughed, "student's secret."

She then looked at Charlie, "wanna dance?"

The DJ was swimming on an eighties wave. There was this certain look again which turned him into a weak-willed something.

"It's obvious who wears the pants in their relationship," Milly said in amusement and looked after them.

"And what about you?" Don queried.

His father got big eyes, "us? We enjoy equal rights, don't we?"

Milly didn't show any reaction.

"Don excuse us please, Milly is starving and she can get extremely intolerable when hungry," Alan stated.

The remark earned him a poke in the side.

"So much to the equal rights topic", Don thought and mingled with the crowd. tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

"You must be Charlie's brother Don?" a trickle ran down Don's spine when he heard the smoky voice from behind.

As he turned it was his turn for his jaw to drop. The most enchanting nature of God stood in front of him, he thought.

"Cat got your tongue?" she teased him and stretched her hand, "hi, I am Ivy a colleague of Charlie."

"You already know me", Don said taking her hand and holding it a little too long.

He had the feeling he would drown in her ocean blue eyes. The shoulder-length, black hair was cut with a sharp fringe and gave her an impudent look; her skin had a slight complexion. She wore an easy cut black dress which suited her very well.

"May I invite you to join me for some punch?" he said as he regained his voice.

She gave him a bright smile, "of course."

He offered her his arm and she was pleased to accept it. The evening may still develop in another direction; any trace of his "midlife crisis" was blown away.

Charlie and Amita still flirted with each other on the dance floor. He could think of nothing better than asking her if she would disappear with him but since they were part of the organizing committee this was wishful thinking. The DJ dimmed the lights and turned on the glittering ball which sent its scintillating beams in all directions. "Little Wonders" of Rob Thomas came from the loudspeakers.

Amita nestled still closer to Charlie. Don and Ivy also danced closely, intertwined.

Amita discovered this and tapped Charlie's shoulder.

"Look at that, your brother in the talons of Poison Ivy," she smirked.

Without looking but with a matching broad grin he said, "What a coincidence!"

Amita cast a highly indignant look at him, "don't tell me it was ..."

He nodded, "guilty in all respects. I helped a little; you know I felt sorry for him when he stood there all alone. He looked lost."

"And what did you tell her?"

Charlie nudged Amita's nose with the forefinger, "well, that dear Don is a highly dangerous man. Wasn't Ivy's last boyfriend a stuntman?"

Amita almost burst out laughing, "You are a real brother."

Charlie wiggled his eyebrows, "I have some things to offer which you still know nothing about. But you could find out if you would move in with me."

He had hardly spoken the words when he instantly regretted it. He would have happily bitten his tongue off to take them back. He felt how Amita stiffened up considerably in his arms.

"Sorry, I am so sorry", he said with his most innocent Bambi look. But the damage had already been done.

"Must we really chew through it again?" she said irritated.

"No, of course not, I ... forget it Amita, okay?"

She did not give him any answer and soon afterwards escaped his embrace.

"Excuse me I need some fresh air."

When Amita turned her back on him, Charlie closed the eyes briefly and gave a quiet curse. No miracle she was over-reacting. They had had this discussion only two days before and she had made clear to him that she was not really ready for it yet. She loved him. That much was certain but she also wanted her liberties. Not for meeting other guys or anything like that. However, she could not give him the exact reason either.

Perhaps he still tried because of this to convince her how much this would mean to him and this in turn only made the situation worse. When the light came on again, he felt really silly being alone on the dance floor. Therefore he followed Amita. He had to force himself not to run. Out in the hallway some couples were practicing "full-body-contact". Amita was nowhere to be seen. A quiet gentle breeze and the noise of a closing door betrayed to him however where she had gone to.

He put his courage in both hands. Actually she stood on the big terrace, held on to the parapet tightly and looked up to the sky. They were alone; the music could be barely heard.

He cleared his throat, "if you would like to you can teach me a lesson in astrophysics. I promise not to prattle and question your thesis."

"You cannot always act as if nothing has happened Charlie," she answered without turning round.

"I know but I have apologized for it anyway and I will again."

He stepped closer to her grasping her upper arm noticing that she was trembling. He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. She finally looked at him.

"Thank you. Listen Charlie, I have a supply job as a guest lecturer overseas."

She added quickly when she saw his horrified look, "it is only for one or two months, nothing special."

He thoughtfully gnawed at his lower lip; he then nodded, "no matter what you decide to do I will stand behind you."

She took his hand, "thank you Charlie, I knew I could rely on you. This is a unique opportunity, and..."

"You really should do it," he confirmed her even if it would take a lot of overcoming for him.

"Where are you going to?"

"France, Lyon. I must make up my mind by the day after tomorrow."

He sighed, "I am missing you already."

Then he drew her into his arms and gave her a tender kiss.

"I'm missing you too," she whispered with a suffocated voice.

"But after my return, we can..."

He put his forefinger on her lips, "shhh, it's okay. I can wait."

As they looked up to the sky, a shooting star darted past.

"Let's make a wish," Charlie suggested. They closed their eyes briefly.

Charlie nodded at her invitingly.

"And?"

"What?"

"What were you wishing for?"

"I won't let you in on it Mr. Eppes."

He acted insulted, "I don't care anyway."

"Yes, whatever."

Just then Charlie's cell phone rang.

"Yes."

"Am I disturbing you?" it was Don.

"Could be," Charlie replied grinning.

"Come on, you're not in a dark small room, doing what I wouldn't do, are you?" Don insisted.

"Evil to him who thinks evil. In addition, you were the one that disappeared at the prom with the belle of the ball in the broom cupboard."

Amita's eyes widened and she shook the head doubtingly.

"Okay, where am I right now? What do you think?" Don smirked.

Before Charlie could reply, Don and Ivy joined them.

"Look at his face," Don roared with laughter, putting his cell phone away, "He truly believed me!"

Charlie felt caught and went on the offensive, "No, I did not. I know your kinky sense of humor."

Don consulted Amita, "What do you think, did he believe me or not?"

"Honestly?" she shrugged and glanced at her friend regretfully, "I think he did."

"This is obviously some conspiracy. Too bad Larry can't be here," Charlie grinned from ear to ear.

Don scratched his forehead, "ah well, he and Megan have already left. He wasn't feeling too well."

They cast knowing looks at each other.

"And how do you like my brother?" Charlie burst out suddenly turning to Ivy.

"Up till now he has been a perfect gentleman", she said cuddling up to Don closely and breathing a kiss on his cheek.

"Don?"

"Yes Charlie?"

"You can grin really stupidly."

"I know," then Don turned his head giving Ivy a promising kiss. As a foursome they went back into the ballroom a little later.

At approximately the same time, a man was making his way along a forest road in Encino, a district in the San Fernando Valley. He stopped his car, went to the back and opened his trunk, he lifted something out which was wrapped up in a tarp and carried it a little further into the woods. He carefully placed the load on the ground.

"No fear little Angel, they will find you here soon", he whispered, lifting a corner of the tarp.

Captivated he stared into the face of a young girl of perhaps sixteen years.

"Forgive me, I must leave you alone now but there is still much to do."

Cautiously he stroked her bloodless cheeks bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"You should have been my masterpiece but then I have seen you with him … I know that you are no longer innocent."

Quickly, he covered her face and got up to leave, unrestrained rage spread within him. How would he ever find peace? tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Shortly after two o'clock in the morning Don and Ivy pulled up in front of her apartment. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other during the drive. They hardly got out of the car when they pounced on each other like hungry beasts of prey. Ivy thought Don had mutated into an octopus, his hands were everywhere.

When she said "STOP", she didn't mean it. The front-door key slipped from her hand twice.

"Don, please! I can't find the keyhole."

He tenderly nibbled at her earlobe. His hot breath on her skin woke her passion.

"No problem", he murmured into her ear, "I can kick it open, I'm used to it."

"Oh yes, I'll take your word for it but what about the neighbors?"

"I'll flash them my badge."

The damned door was finally open. They stripped off the clothing on their way to the living room.

They targeted the couch but landed on the fleecy, cream-colored carpet instead. The flames of passion burned uncontrolled; melted their bodies and souls until they become one. It didn't look like making love. It was more a kind of wrestling match.

In the end Don had the upper hand and Ivy was pinned under his weight. She owed it to him for raking her long fingernails along his back. That was going to leave a mark he could feel it already. More than once he was close to losing control but he didn't allow it. It was Ivy's turn first. His lips covered every inch of her body. She wanted everything of him and he would give it to her. She called his name again and again, burying her fingers in his dark hair. Finally Don thought the blood would start to boil in his veins and gave in. They climaxed together.

Completely breathless he remained lying on her, supporting himself with his hands. He attentively watched her face, it seemed to glow.

She smiled blissfully, "not bad for the opening act."

"You are mistaken if you think that I'm done with you already," he smirked, "it only takes a minute."

"Pretentious blowhard", she said in a low voice, then gripped his neck with her hand and brought his head down towards her lips.

Amita and Charlie lay cuddled up to each other closely in bed. He could hear from her regular breathing that she was already in a deep sleep. He lay on his back, with his left hand protectively resting on her shoulder. The back of his right one lay on his forehead. He stared holes into the darkened ceiling. He recalled the last few days, especially yesterday evening, over and over again.

"In these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of faith," the song was stuck in his head. His thoughts seemed to assume an independent reality. He knew already now that he wouldn't be able to sleep. He got up as soon as dawn approached. Carefully to not wake Amita he got dressed and went to the university.

On his desk lay a short notice. Milly wanted a small treatise on "prospects for contemporary math teaching" from him; a hard nut to crack as he hated such things. He preferred every mathematical problem - even a tricky one - a thousand times over scribbling words on paper. If he had wanted this, he would have studied English literature and literature and not math. But Milly seemed to ignore that he was faced with a dilemma.

And now he had the pleasure of welcoming her almost every single day at home, too. Why had Alan chosen Milly of all people? There were a lot of other women his age anyway. Charlie had abandoned all attempts at back-seat driving his father in matters of the heart. The university area was ghostly empty. No miracle around that time. One could have almost believed that aliens had kidnapped everyone on campus.

"I should watch less science fiction movies," he muttered.

Since Larry's flight to space he was fascinated by the vastness of the universe. Could something like that be contagious? Charlie shook his head as if he could dispel these absurd thoughts with it. He winced upon the noise his briefcase made when he banged it on the desk. Jesus, slowly he was turning into a bundle of nerves.

Perhaps it was even a good thing if Amita and he separated for some time. Then he could at least concentrate on the essential things in life again. And they were? Absolutely nothing occurred to him except for this silly treatise. Of course it would've been easier to search the internet and to plagiaries but if Milly found out, she would bite his head off for certain.

So he sat down, rested his head in his hand and started to write. He had hardly written a couple of lines when he scrubbed the sheet, crumpled it up and threw it in the direction of the paper basket. Also a way to waste time, he thought.

"White, white, only white!" Charlie heard a muffled voice that sounded quite like Larry Fleinhardt's.

"I would have had to think, but no."

Charlie curiously went to the door, "Larry?"

His friend startled and put his hand on his mouth.

"Are you nuts, Charles? What are you doing here so early?"

Charlie grinned, "I could ask you the same question."

"Me? I am a little older than you; therefore I don't need much sleep," Larry snapped

"You can keep me company if you want ", Charlie said, not quite without ulterior motives.

Perhaps Larry could lend him a helping hand in finding a solution to his problem?

"I think I still have some milk in the refrigerator."

Larry nodded, "that sounds really enticing. You could have stopped me from drinking so much punch yesterday, it was red, RED Charles and I only eat and drink white things."

Charlie shook his head and grinned, "oh no, you can't blame me. I did warn you Larry. You didn't want to hear about it. You and Megan disappeared really fast. How was the rest of your evening?" he wanted to know putting two glasses of milk and a plate with biscuits on the table.

Larry made a dismissive gesture, "Don't ask me. I think it was far after midnight when I have stopped praying to the porcelain God."

Larry bit the biscuit pleasurably and took a sip of milk.

"Megan was a true angel, she held my head at all times and didn't leave me alone for a minute."

"Not my idea of a hot date", Charlie remarked laconically. His evening had not really been that much better.

He then took Milly's mail and pushed it into Larry's hand, "I do not want to be impudent but maybe you could help me with it now you're here? You know I'm really struggling with these things."

Expectantly he looked at his friend while shoving a biscuit into his mouth.

Larry read aloud, "prospects for contemporary math teaching."

"Sounds like a real challenge. When do you need it for?"

"Well you know it's not urgent just today, this afternoon or so?" Charlie did his best to sound apathetic.

"If you expect miracles, you should consult the church", Larry said with a wink.

--

"You look like you've slept in your trunk," Megan stated when Don showed up for work obviously exhausted.

"Thank you and good morning yourself", he mumbled.

He just had enough time to grab a shower and get changed. A broad grin had appeared on his face at the sight of the scratches on his back. This had been the only amusing thing this morning. L.A. was purest horror during the rush hour. Why was there no helicopter at his disposal?

"Dream on", Don thought and went into the kitchen, Megan followed him.

She was bursting with curiosity.

"Who was the lucky lady? Could I've seen her?"

Don took a cup intending to pour in some coffee.

After looking into the can he put it back disgustedly, "you could cover most of the asphalt on our car park with that."

With two steps Megan was beside him, "if you tell me with whom you ... you know what I mean? I'll make you another one. I have even real Brazilian in the box, not the instant stuff out of the supermarket."

"I'll take one, too", Colby said poking his hand into the kitchen, "what do I have to do for it?"

Don seized the chance, "not much, just tell her who you slept with last night."

"What?!" Colby's eyes got big as saucers.

"Doesn't it work that way Megan?" Don said slightly malicious.

This earned him a kick to the shin.

"Ouch."

Megan put the washed can back to its place.

"Make the coffee yourself", she mumbled marching past Don not deign to look at him.

Colby shrugged, "could be her time of the month?"

"365 days in the year?" Don replied doubting, "by the way now it's your turn to make coffee today."

He limped, exaggerating it a little to his desk. The red light on his phone meant somebody had left a message for him. After he had listened to it, he got up cursing. He didn't think his day could have got worse but it just had.

Megan looked up from her files, "what's the matter?"

"That was the director of San Quentin. Adrian Craven is asking for me."

Megan wrinkled her forehead, "the serial killer we ran down not long ago?"

Don nodded and suddenly a heavy stone seemed to settle in his stomach, "exactly!"

"And what does he want?"

"I've no idea. The director has only told me Craven got a knife off somebody in the exercise yard and slashed his wrists with it. His demand: A face-to-face meeting with Special Agent Eppes. He wouldn't let himself be treated first until the director had promised him this."

"You shouldn't go alone", Megan said worriedly.

"You're welcome to come along", Don replied.

She shook the head, "I can't, I must take care of our newbie."

Don breathed deeply, "I completely forgot. I've heard he's the nephew of one of our directors."

Megan twisted her face and nodded, "we must therefore wrap him in cotton wool and keep a close eye on him."

"Fuck, as if we haven't got enough on our plates," he sighed frustrated.

"The coffee is ready", Colby yelled from the kitchen.

Don went over to him, "no time, you're up for an excursion to San Quentin?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Don took his weapon which he had secured safely in his desk drawer and put it into the holster. Briefly, when he passed by Megan she held him tight, "don't let him creep into your head," she said with a worried frown. He nodded heading in the direction of the exit.

Don and Colby drove in silence for a while. Noticing something seemed to be bothering Colby

Don said, "spit it out."

"What?"

"Your fidgeting around in your seat so there must be something on your mind."

"Well I know it's a stupid question but what did Megan mean by saying "Don't let him creep into your head"?"

"Are you having the jitters"? Don said with a grin, "You are welcome to wait in front of the door until I..."

"No, it's okay", Colby cut him short

"Since his detention Megan has talked to Craven repeatedly," Don explained, "he participate on something, how shall I explain it?" He considered briefly, then he flicked with the fingers, "I would exactly describe him as a manipulative asshole, this meets it well best."

Colby nodded, the bad feeling remained.

The procedure when entering a high-security wing was always the same, weapons and other "dangerous" objects had to be deposited with the guard. Then you were channeled through numerous steel doors and gates until finally arriving in a 5 x 5m sized room which held a table and two chairs. Everything in it was secured to the floor with special mounts. Otherwise the criminal may have the idea of hitting his advocate with a chair although guards were posted in front of the doors. Someone who had nothing more to lose didn't tend to care too much. Colby stood in the left corner next to the door while Don took out a seat on one side of the table. Craven arrived soon afterwards. He wore the usual orange-colored prison boiler suit. He had bonds at his hands and feet. Don could see the unconcealed white bandages under the handcuffs. After the guard had Craven pressed into the chair roughly he secured the handcuffs into the designated slot on the table. The official nodded at the two Feds and left the room.

"I am here Craven. Tell me what you want!" Don snapped.

Instead of an answer Craven was grinning amused and sized Colby up. The pervading looks from his small bird eyes enhanced Colby's disposition, he tried nevertheless to withstand them. Craven was nothing special if one refrained from thinking about his atrocities. He was approximately 6.0 ", had thin gray hair, small eyes, with a cheeky look, a big nose and thin lips. He actually looked like the man next-door or the seller out of the supermarket. His neighbors had described him as even helpful, a little solitary but nevertheless kind. The only striking aspects of the man were the tattoos on both forearms. They were an exact copy of that one's Keanu Reeves had in the movie "Constantine". Colby secretly wondered how often in the hope Craven could escape from the gray cell and the prison routine would he have already combined both forearms.

It had not been easy to arrest him. Craven belonged namely to the worst of his species. Serial killers hardly kill people of other races than their own. They do not kill straight through every age group either. They usually have a fixed pattern after which they proceed. They plan everything meticulously; often track their victims over weeks. Craven was white, but there were black people, Hispanics, Chinese etc. on his death list. He had killed young people, old people, even kids. This was exactly the reason why it had been so hard to locate and capture him. At first the FBI had been able to find no pattern let alone a connection between the murders, as long as Craven changed his MO and left verses of chants among his victims. The FBI profilers only spoke about the "aura killer" in Quantico now. The newspapers almost glorified Craven after his arrest by having given him the nickname "demon hunter".

Craven thought he had a special gift. He had said that he had been chosen by God, to clean the earth of demons who linger among us. He could recognize the aura of a man without technical aids, he claimed. So it was possible for him to distinguish the bad ones from the good ones he affirmed. Demons did not have any aura, they radiated only cold. The profilers still puzzled about this, where had Craven's illusion came from? Megan had not made progress during her meetings with the murderer: Normal childhood, Roman Catholic education in a boarding school, no previous convictions. But something had to have happened in Craven's live that could account for his insanity.

"So you include gorillas in your organization now, too?" Craven smirked and starred at Colby once more. "That's what he looks like your partner: a gorilla in a suit."

Colby gritted his teeth in an attempt to remain silent.

"He is an alpha male agent Eppes. You should watch yourself. He is one of those who would kill its own kind in order to survive. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" he bent his head a little aside, "You were with the army little monkey, weren't you? How many of your comrades have died by your own hand."

Craven's tactics gained the desired effect, Colby lost his temper, stormed toward him and picked him up by the collar.

His face turned crimson with anger, "stop that shit or I beat the crap out of you," he shouted and.

Craven remained calm although his air supply was limited considerably.

"Your laboratory animal has a damned low threshold", he squeezed out between the teeth with a grin, "left perfect, as characteristic for his intellect."

Before Colby could do anything stupid, Don intervened. Only with a huge effort did he succeed in dragging his partner away from Craven. He grabbed him by the neck first, then twisted Colby's arm back and shoved it higher so his partner felt a great deal of pain. Don didn't want to harm him further.

He then pressed him against the wall, "calm down Colby," Don ordered him, "now you know what Megan was talking about. He has you exactly there where he wants you."

Colby squirmed in Don's grip.

"Let me smack him just once!"

"I don't want to have to take your badge and tell you you're suspended", Don hissed, "but you have two options: you calm down and stay inside or I'll put you in front of the door personally and you get a caution because of improper behavior."

Colby's breath calmed down slowly and came to the conclusion he had misbehaved. With the flat of his hand he beat against the wall twice, "I'm okay Don, I'm okay, you can let me go."

Don stepped back and adjusted his suit. Colby walked back to the door, into the dark corner again. The guard poked his head into the room briefly.

"Everything's fine officer," Don stated.

The man nodded and closed the door.

Craven threw a sorrowful look at his handcuffs. "If I could, I would applaud now, but unfortunately ..." he shrugged. "You still have him under control but believe me sooner or later ..."

Suddenly Don's hand shot forward directly to Craven's throat, "I think you have directed long enough now. Why am I here? What do you want from me?"

Don's action had obviously affected him. After pulling back his hand, Craven gasp for air.

"Speak or I'll get up immediately, leave and then you can cut your balls off and you won't see me again," Don snapped boiling with rage.

"My lawyer was here with the indictment yesterday. But you can't blame me for the last two. It wasn't me."

Don startled, "which last two?"

"These girls with the angel faces. It wasn't me, it was him."

Don got even more curious.

"Who is he?"

"Our ways have crossed once. He called himself Raphael. Just like the archangel. I have called him a blasphemer. Raphael was sent out by God to cure the people and not to destroy them."

Don crinkled his forehead, "are you going to tell me, that now at this very moment another one of your kind is running around in L.A. butchering people?"

Craven licked his lips nervously, "you don't get it. He is not like me. I could never kill a man. I have killed demons. I have protected the people of this town."

"I'm sure the mother of four year old Jamie Tavern will owe it to you," Don's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"You have to advise my lawyer, that you are not going to blame me?"

"Like hell I will, Craven. You talk nothing but shit. You call me here to tell me a hair-raising story of an archangel? You are totally out of your mind. As if it would make a difference. You end up on death row no matter what."

"But I do not expiate, for something I have not done. The girls were angels. I have killed only devils."

Don got up, if the chair had not been bolted to the ground, it would have toppled over.

"Stop it! I won't listen to this bullshit any longer. You're making me sick."

"I would have considered you as cleverer Agent Eppes," the cold in Craven's voice paused Don for a moment.

"If you're not listening to me now, then I make sure that you will listen some other time. Every man has a sore point. Don't you think I wouldn't have a plan B.?"

"Are you threatening me?" Don's voice was as cold as ice like Craven's. Their eyes locked.

Craven lowered his voice so only Don could hear him, "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me. I had respect for you because you managed to track me down. I considered you equal. You just lost this advantage Agent Eppes. I give you to the end of the week. Think about it. My lawyer will ..."

"Don't bother! There's no need to give me respite anyway. I can tell you I won't lift a finger in this matter."

"One week, Agent. Then your life will become a nightmare beyond your worst imagination. Think about it if you lie awake in the night and wonder why you didn't believe me. Because then I will remain silent forever."

Don had to admit that Craven had given a thoroughly impressive performance while he was returning to the car with Colby.

"Shall I drive?" asked Colby who did not like Don's facial expression at all.

He threw the car keys to him, "thank you."

"We should talk to Megan when we get back," Colby suggested before he started the engine.

Shortly after seven o'clock in the evening Charlie walked through the entrance to his house, whistling merrily. The paper had landed on Milly's desk on schedule. Larry was simply the best. The marvelous smell of pot roast reached his nose. He found three settings at the dining table.

"Hi Dad! Is Don coming for dinner?" Charlie called into the kitchen.

Alan entered the dining room with a bottle of red wine and didn't look happy.

"Hi Charlie. Don isn't coming today, he has other plans apparently."

Charlie grinned knowingly from ear to ear and rubbed his hands.

"Milly is our guest. Before, she would like to talk to you, however."

Charlie's good mood just went down the drain.

"About what?"

Alan banged the bottle on the table, "why do you ask me? I am only your father, I am not the Wizard of Oz."

His reaction betrayed exactly the opposite.

"She waits for you in my study room."

Burying his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and with his head hanging low Charlie went next door.

"Good evening Charlie," Milly said gruffly.

To his horror she held "his" paper in her hands. Casually she threw the documents across the desk.

"If I would have Dr. Fleinhardt to deal with this topic, I would have asked him to write it and not you."

Charlie stared at the ground.

"I might have been born at night - but it wasn't last night, Charlie! I want you to describe it with your own words."

"I can't do this, okay?" he made a desperate gesture with his hand, "I am a genius with numbers, but a lame duck, about how to express something in words. Ask Amita or dad or Don about it. Most of the time it feels like talking past them."

Milly shook her head, "this is ridiculous and you know it. There are not just shallow numbers in your belfry. Make an effort. Amaze me." She couldn't do different and began to laugh.

Charlie followed suit.

"Although you're laughing you're serious, aren't you?"

She nodded, "Of course."

He admitted defeated, "Okay I'll do it. But you have to give me another week at least."

"Agreed," she said and linked arms with him.

Together they went back to the dining table where Alan served the dinner already.

"But do not expect any miracles Milly. I for certain won't turn into Shakespeare."

Looking at the two of them Alan felt relieved. Milly had been really furious about Charlie humbugging her. Alan had diplomatically tried to mediate and he had succeeded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Present

_BANG! _

Charlie's eyes flew open. Somebody had turned on the light and loud music boomed by the closed door. He figured he'd probably only dropped off briefly as his clothing was still wet, but the noise was not the reason why he'd woken. He had the feeling that something in his body was different. The blood pounded in his ears and his heart raced as if he just had finished a marathon. He grasped the iron rail of the bed and straightened up, his movements nervous and trembling despite the fact that he wasn't cold. His mind was spinning as he got to his feet. He was in the middle of his prison and even with the loud music he thought he could hear a scraping, gnawing noise. _Rats!_ A shadow darted behind him and he whirled around. Squeaking and mincing patters of small feet reached his ears. He started turning in circles, his hands outstretched. He began to panic and his pulse almost tripled its normal rate. It seemed impossible to calm down.

"Charlie!" a woman's voice called, "Charlieeeeeeeee!"

He turned. She sat on the bed, her hair a wild tangle and her eyes sunken hollows in her face. She wore the dress which her husband had chosen for her burial. Charlie had seen it, although Alan didn't know that at the time. Charlie bent his head to one side and tried to focus – not an easy task.

"Mom?" he yelped. "Mom… is that you?"

Suddenly she was standing in front of him. He could smell her foul breath.

"Charlie, my little boy." Her voice sounded strange. "You will stay here forever. Don won't find you… nobody will because you're with me." She lifted her hand and ran partly decomposed fingers through his curly hair. "I am all that you have now."

"No!" Charlie yelled, recoiling. "You're lying! Don… Don will ..."

"What? You think he has nothing better to do than look for you? Stupid little boy." She laughed out loud. "Do you really think you're the centre of the universe and everyone has to care about you?"

"Go away!" he shouted.

She shook her head, tufts of hair falling to the ground. "I can't do that. Remember… you asked me to come back and here I am."

Charlie felt the cold concrete against his back. His chest heaved as he started to hyperventilate.

His mother's voice echoed in his head, calling his name over and over. Charlie began to think he was losing his mind. "No… I do not want to talk to you. Please…" His voice trailed off.

Once more she reached out for him and touched his face.

He shook his head. "No, please stop. Please." He buried his face in his hands and slipped down the rough wall to the ground. Charlie could feel the concrete biting into his skin, gouging deep furrows into his back but oddly enough there was no pain. Only numbing cold. Suddenly his helplessness changed into uncontrollable rage.

Charlie jumped to his feet. "Why'd you leave me, Mom? Why weren't you there for me? You died and left me alone! You have no right to be here."

"Of course I do… you called me, Charlie. Don't you remember? You wrote a letter to God and asked him to send me back to you," his mother objected.

Tears poured down Charlie's cheeks as he shook his head. "How could you know that? I wrote that letter four months after your death and then burned it in the garden. I almost burned down the tool-shed. I never told anyone about it… nobody knows."

"I do," she smirked. "Don't you remember what Donnie told you? 'Mom is up there watching us, seeing everything we do'."

Charlie cried out in anguish.

The music ceased.

"What's going on in there?" the woman demanded.

She'd suddenly appeared behind the guy in the battledress. He turned his head away from the door, a smile frozen on his lips.

"I have no idea, Delinda," he answered, frightened.

"Let me look," she pushed him aside and peered into the narrow slit.

"He's completely out of his mind", the man said. "He talks about his mom continually."

"How high was the dose you gave him?"

"Ask Patrick, he poured it into the water."

Delinda turned. "Then get him here."

"He went into town to find something for dinner."

Charlie was still screaming. Suddenly he clenched his left hand into a fist and smashed it against the wall. The sound of bones cracking was clear but he didn't seem to be registering any pain.

"Unlock this door immediately!" Delinda commanded.

"But..."

"Unlock the damned door! Eppes is about to kill himself."

They went in without masks this time. Charlie was drugged anyway, and wouldn't be able to remember their faces. As they reached for Charlie he began to fight, kicking and clawing in an effort to get away. Finally Charlie's torturers got the upper hand, pushing him onto the bed and handcuffing his healthy arm to the bed frame.

"Get some bandages," the woman snapped, sitting astride Charlie to keep him pinned down.

The other man tossed a first aid kit on the bed. "Here! Strickler didn't say anything about helping this guy out."

Delinda cast him a withering glance. "Strickler also didn't have Adrian's permission for using drugs."

"As far as I know he only put some crystals into the water," the guard protested. "He told me he was just fooling around and the guy certainly wouldn't get harmed."

"Then what do you call this, Xavier?" She held up Charlie's blood-smeared hand.

"It could have been his head. Just because Strickler smokes crystal meth, it doesn't make him an expert. He's a user. That bullshit is so unpredictable… like a load of nitroglycerine."

Patrick Strickler entered the underground dungeon, frowning at the uncharacteristic silence. He put the shopping bags on the table and then crossed to the open door leading to Charlie's prison. He smirked at the sight of Delinda sitting on Charlie, tending to his injuries.

"Delinda, darling… you're not having sex with our professor, are you?"

She turned to look at him. "Shut the fuck up, Strickler. Your 'experiment' has gone wrong. We almost lost him."

Strickler leaned casually against the door frame and folded his arms. " Who cares? I don't think Adrian will let him go anyway."

Delinda finished and packed the dressing material away. "Once more you're wrong. Adrian has never killed an innocent."

Strickler threw his head back and moaned, "Oh no. You're not giving me a lecture about good and evil now? I have absolutely no clue why you believe Craven and his stories. There are no demons, Delinda. Those are fantasies."

"You didn't know my brother," she retorted hotly. "You have no idea what it was like when that demon seized Michael's body and turned him into an evil creature."

"I'd say your brother couldn't handle the dirty games your father liked to play with both of you and turned into a psycho," Strickler grinned. His head rocked back as Delinda slapped his face.

"Keep your mouth shut before I forget myself. Adrian's exorcism for Michael was successful and he cured me." She pulled open the top of her blouse, exposing soft skin covered by scars in the shape of little crosses. "I would have been lost without him."

Strickler took a deep breath. "Darling, you forgot to mention that Michael paid for his salvation with his life… and those scars didn't make you prettier, either."

She spat into his face. "If Adrian were here he'd turn you into a pillar of fire. I don't doubt that. And then he would send you to hell."

Strickler pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. "But Adrian _isn't_ here," he replied. "And as far as I know _I'm_ the one who tells _you_ what to do. You are merely an observer, Delinda. Behave like one."

Charlie moaned loudly. Delinda turned to him but Strickler caught her wrist. "Don't you dare help him any more."

He then turned to Xavier, who had been standing motionless next to Charlie the whole time. "And now show me what I've missed. I'll send the best pictures to the FBI later. Maybe that'll make them get on with this case." Delinda offered only weak resistance when Strickler dragged her out of the room. Xavier closed the door behind them and switched off the light.

The two men disappeared next door to watch the video recording. Delinda preferred to stay close to Charlie, leaning her head against the cold steel door. She knew that what they were doing was wrong, but she was used to serving Adrian and had been doing so since she was twelve. He also trained her. Although she did not have his abilities, he _had_ managed to sharpen her instincts. She often helped Adrian in tracking down evil.

However her mentor had always done the dirty work himself. At the time, Michael was also given the choice to follow him but had decided against it. The demon in him had probably grown too strong. Charlie reminded her of Michael in many ways. The curly hair, for instance. Michael's had been blonde, though. He also radiated gentleness and innocence until the demon seized his body. She'd not been able to save Michael. Perhaps she could save Charlie although that would mean going against Adrian. Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't believe God would force her to choose between Charlie and Adrian. tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter ****6**

_13 days earlier_

_Great!_ If Don hadn't been holding a cordless phone, he probably would have banged the receiver down. After the awkward day in San Quentin he'd truly been in urgent need of a diversion and there would've been no better place than Ivy's arms. Too bad, that she had to comfort a friend whose fiancé had apparently gotten cold feet shortly before the wedding. For just a second Don thought about, he and two women ...

"Just stop that shit," he muttered.

"Pardon me?" Megan inquired as she rounded the corner.

"Uh… nothing."

"How was your day?" she yawned and stretched her back, "The rookie is annoying me. Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting in an interrogation room myself."

"All of us were bustling at the beginning," Don said wistfully. "During that time you don't have any clue what bullshit is waiting for you out there and you're thinking only in black and white. There are no grey areas and you don't question everything permanently."

"Don?" Megan seemed amazed. "What happened? Did Craven bother you that much?"

He got up and put his jacket on. "I've called a meeting for tomorrow morning. I've had enough for today. Hope you don't mind."

He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and left. Megan followed him with her eyes, frowning. It was just after 7 pm and Don did not want to go home to his empty apartment to cook himself a meal in the microwave and then, still alone, sit down in front of the TV with popcorn and a beer.

The sight of Charlie, his shoulders slumped, sitting on the porch steps holding a bottle of beer in one hand did nothing to cheer him up either.

"Hi Chuck," he said warmly. "What's the matter? Has dad given you detention for the rest of your life?"

Charlie muttered something unintelligible, possibly some kind of greeting, and took a swig. Don sat down next to him. Charlie's obvious suffering sparked a wave of sympathy in him.

Putting his own problems aside, Don gently asked, "Everything okay?"

"What does it look like?" Charlie sighed.

"No idea," replied Don. "Don't you usually creep away into the garage and find a solution for unsolvable math problems instead of getting drunk?"

Charlie looked up. "This is my first beer, Don. And I _have_ been in the garage till now."

"You've always been a lightweight. Is there one left for me?"

Charlie nodded. "Look out – Millie is in there with Dad…"

"That's nothing new."

"…And they're playing _chess_," Charlie went on, undaunted. "Last time she beat him it took a whole _week_ before he got over it."

Don smirked and disappeared briefly into the house. He'd hardly sat down again when his little brother asked with a mischievous grin, "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Why?"

"Shouldn't you be with Ivy… having a romantic candlelit dinner?"

"What the heck…"

"She was talking about you all day. You must have impressed her." Charlie grinned from ear to ear.

"What did she tell you?" Don wanted to know.

Charlie shrugged.

_"Charlie?!" _

"Is this some kind of interrogation?" he acted innocently.

"Forget it."

Silence fell between them.

Suddenly Don couldn't resist. "And? She'd been really talking about me?"

Charlie nodded intently.

"Say…" Don began carefully. "I've heard you and Amita have called her "Poison Ivy". Is there a reason for that?"

"She was already married twice and both of them died," Charlie answered, struggling to maintain a serious expression.

Don eyes widened. "What did they die of?"

"Well… nobody could really tell."

Don took a big swig from the bottle. His facial expression spoke volumes. The FBI agent had taken over and his mind was going a mile a minute.

Charlie couldn't stand it any longer. He burst out laughing, slapping himself on the thigh with his open palm.

"Not funny," Don objected.

"But you should see your _face!_" Charlie hooted. "It's priceless! Payback is sweet!"

"You dirty little bastard!" Don set his bottle down and lunged at him.

Alan came out on the porch. "Do you two need a referee?"

Don shook his head. "Thanks, but I have everything under control."

"I can see that," Alan growled, watching Charlie try desperately to escape Don's grip. "I'm going back to Millie. He headed for the door, grumbling "Two grown men still behaving like …"

"Stop, I give in!" Charlie shouted at last. He was almost choking from laughter.

"If you were younger I'd put you over my knee and spank you," Don grinned. "Now tell me the _real_ reason you call her that."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Ivy is highly involved in environmental protection. During her studies she was an active member of Greenpeace. She demonstrated against the transport of toxic waste and even tied herself to railway tracks once."

Don looked impressed. "That's her nature. Right now she's helping a friend whose fiancé left her at the altar."

"Typical Ivy," Charlie commented. "Amita told me yesterday that she has an invitation to be a guest lecturer in France."

"Wow, that's great," Don said, then glanced at Charlie. "I take that back. It's not great – not for you." He put a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"She'll be gone for two months. Right now, where ... Never mind. You don't get a chance like this too often. She should do it." Charlie tried to smile.

"Hey, we'll get through this together," Don replied, trying to cheer him up. "I'll drop in every day and get on your nerves."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Heaven forbid."

--

The next morning Don arrived at the office relaxed and in an exceptionally good mood. He met Megan and the rookie, smiling as she introduced them.

"Don, this is Theodor Vasquez jun. Eduardo Vasquez's nephew. And this, Agent Vasquez, is Special Agent Eppes." They shook hands.

"How do you like it so far?" Don asked courteously.

"It's quite interesting, Sir. I sat down the other night and thought of some questions I wanted to ask ..."

"Later, alright?" Don turned to Megan. "As soon as Colby and David are here I want everyone in the conference room."

"What about me, Sir? I'm part of the team, too, right?" Vasquez said eagerly.

"Of course you are," Don replied soothingly. "And one of us _will_ bring you up to speed but it's not necessary that you be present all the time. Have you been to the armory and the shooting range yet?"

The rookie's eyes widened. "No, Sir!"

"Excellent. Go talk to Agent Strauss – he's over there on the left. When it comes to that stuff, he's the man to see."

Vasquez nodded briefly and was gone.

Megan thought in amusement, _Cold steel and the smell of cordite. No man can resist._

Half an hour later all four sat together while Don briefed Megan and David about Craven's 'revelations'.

"This is ridiculous," David said indignantly. "Craven's already on Death Row. It doesn't make any sense to argue that two of the bodies aren't his doing."

"I know," Don sighed. "We've got to find out what's behind his claim."

"Do we really have to?" Colby put in, annoyed. "I think the guy has at least fifteen deaths to answer for – if not more."

"What's your opinion, Megan?" Don asked.

"Craven has killed in different ways and never held to a pattern…" She leafed through the file on the table in front of her. "…Until he began to leave these pieces of paper with verses from chants. According to the report we didn't find any clues with the last two bodies."

"So he returned to his old pattern – so what?" Colby spat. "The guy has a few screws loose. 'Demons'. _Bullshit!_"

"What better place to hunt demons than in the city of angels?" Don mused. "Let's go over it again."

"It was _such_ a lovely morning," David muttered.

"Megan, you start," Don commanded.

She nodded once. "Craven came to Los Angeles sometime around the beginning of the nineties. By then he already had this delusion about demons but we still don't know what caused it."

"Maybe it was drugs," Colby offered, playing with his pen.

Megan shook her head. "There were never references to an addiction and his murders were not spontaneous but planned… all of them. I don't know any organized junkies – do you?"

"One point for you," Colby admitted.

"In addition, he managed to gather a considerable number of supporters," she went on.

"In times like these that's no miracle," David put in. "There's a lot of poverty and, given the high rate of unemployment, kids have to hold on to _something_."

"One almost could describe him as the new Charles Manson," Don said. "He knows how to manipulate people, to dominate and even to control them. Otherwise we would have been aware of him earlier. Manson was also an expert at it and we all know how _that_ turned out."

Everyone nodded.

"Why is he insisting now that the two last bodies shouldn't be credited on his account?" Colby wanted to know.

Don shrugged, "What _I'd_ like to know is why he has virtually risked his life to tell me about it. He's definitely nuts, but maybe we should consider that in _this_ case he may be telling the truth."

"You can't simply reopen the case," Megan pointed out.

Don chewed at his bottom lip. "I know," he replied. "I have an appointment with the prosecutor this afternoon."

"Maybe it was one of his followers," said David.

"As far as we know Craven was careful to protect them from the 'demons'. That means they never had direct contact with the victims ", Megan answered. "The murders were solely Craven's doing. He taught his followers how to protect themselves from the 'evil', but he also beat it into them to avoid direct confrontations. He loves to perform for an audience, and I'm sure some of the victims died in the presence of Craven's followers, but _he_ was the one who killed them."

"This is utter crap anyway," Colby snapped. "Demons… good and evil … it sounds like an episode of Buffy."

"You watch Buffy?" Megan asked, stunned.

"I used to, when I was younger."

"What do you mean, when you were _younger?"_ Megan smirked, imagining her tough colleague as a teenager sitting in front of the TV admiring a female vampire slayer.

Colby made a dismissive gesture.

Don's voice brought them back to reality. "Talk to LAPD. See if they have any cases similar to the last two Craven committed. If so… we have a problem."

--

He sat in his little motel room, skimming the news channels. There were no reports about the finding of a young girl's body in Encino in a piece of woodland. He could deal with it – he'd already found a new princess for himself. She was beautiful: blonde hair, ice blue eyes and a simply perfect radiant smile. He had her photos spread out in front of him on the bed. He touched each one, his desire causing heat to burn in his groin. He would destroy the photos later, but not yet. Not yet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter ****7**

The prosecutor for Craven's case was Peter Novak, a glib self-satisfied asshole with tons of gel in his hair wearing an Armani suit and shoes. His shirts were starched so much that Don wondered how the fellow could move in them at all. The two were anything but friends. Again and again they had argued with each other and once in a while Don came close losing his temper. Don had a gut feeling that his request to continue the investigation was destined to fail. The hostile facial expression of Novak's secretary spoke volumes.

"Hi Trish, I have a date with your boss." Don gave her a friendly smile - he knew her from when she had been secretary to one of the instructors in Quantico.

"Hello Don. He's waiting for you. Be brief - he has a meeting with people of the colonel court of justice. I've squeezed you in."

If she had said 'Go and fuck yourself' it would have had the same tone, Don thought.

"Trish, enchanting like always", he replied as he entered Novak's 'inner sanctum'.

The office appeared Spartan in black and grey. It had all the charm of a freezer compartment in a morgue.

Novak gave him a false smile, baring two rows of flawlessly bleached teeth. "Agent Eppes, nice meeting you again."

They shook hands and Don thought it felt like sticking your hand into a cold, shaking pudding. Disgusting.

"The pleasure is all mine," Don replied, getting into the game.

"Please, have a seat."

Don sat in the seemingly fragile, uncomfortable post-modern visitor's chair. Novak sank into a luxurious split cowhide executive chair opposite, the seat raised slightly so the prosecutor appeared to be looking down on him.

"So you came here to obtain a list of the inquiries in Craven's case?" Novak inquired and raised his left eyebrow. "This is based on the what?"

"You'd know the reason if you've read the report I faxed you earlier this morning." Don wasn't up to explaining everything in detail again.

Novak pulled a piece of paper out of one of his designer letter trays. Don got the impression that he was worried about being infected with Ebola or something by the way he was touching the sheet. Novak skimmed it quickly.

"Do you really think you do a favor to our taxpayers?" He looked at Don expectantly.

"What if there's a grain of truth in it? What if another serial killer is cruising around LA? Wouldn't it be our duty to protect the taxpayers then?" Don retorted.

"Nice argument," Novak admitted, a little bored. "And this is based on the statement of a lunatic who feels called upon protecting the city from Demons and therefore had butchered people at random? When was your last appointment with a shrink, Eppes?"

"I still think that where there's smoke, there's fire," Don said, unaffected.

"Any proof? The MO of the last two killings was different from the others. Any 'new' victims since Craven is behind bars?" Novak drummed with his fingers on the glassy desktop impatiently.

"None so far" Don admitted.

"Then all we have is your gut instinct?"

"No, not at all. It was how Craven had talked about Raphael and his vehemence..."

Novak lifted his hand. "After Craven's arrest the papers were full of pictures and articles about him, but this was months ago. Meanwhile it's gotten quiet around the 'Aura-Killer'." The patronizing smile appeared again, "And there is his upcoming trial. I think all he wanted with these theatrical acts was attention - at any cost. Believe me I won't do him the favor! Imagine if Craven were out of his cell, pointing at a real monster. This time it's not about innocent people. This time he would betray someone of his own kind. The media would trip over themselves to make this lunatic a hero. Not to mention our citizens would be seized with panic. Do you still think it would be worth it?"

"What if you're wrong and there IS another killer and all we do is watch? What would people think if the FBI and other authorities simply leaned back and twiddled their thumbs? All I asked for was another week. It's not asking too much."

Novak glanced at his Breitling wrist watch, irritated.

"In my opinion it's exactly one week too much. Probably one of Craven's followers is the killer. What makes Craven responsible indirectly. He already has enough influence on his 'Legion of Doom' of misguided individuals who unconditionally obey him. He should not be able to draw our institutions into his influence. Do you have the slightest idea what's going to happen if this trial proceeds? His followers will besiege the court day and night."

"It is really great talking to you, Counselor," Don hissed, "You have such a keen perception of this case. I'm already looking forward to return to your office. If we start piling up corpses of young fair-haired girls in the morgue, then obviously they can't go on Craven's account."

Novak frowned. "Are you threatening me?"

"Maybe, but it's more likely that all I want is to illustrate what would happen if Craven weren't cooking up stories," Don replied, nearing the end of his patience.

"You still don't have your emotions under control, Agent Eppes," Novak sneered. "You should keep working on that. Anti-aggression therapy wouldn't be a bad idea either. How many did you already complete?"

Don's gritted his teeth. Novak wasn't going to agitate him this time. "In a nutshell: does this mean you're not going to obtain a list of the new inquiries in Craven's case?"

Novak shook his head, confused at Don's cool response. "Definitely not. And if I hear any rumors about you or your team not following my instructions, you can expect legal measures."

"Alright, Sir, I accept your decision," Don spat.

Novak approached him and stretched out his hand. "I'm glad you're in complete agreement."

Without a word, Don turned and left the office.

Outside the glaring sunlight stung his eyes. He put on his dark sunglasses and got into the car. His fears had proved well-founded and the realization depressed him. Perhaps it would have been better to wait a day? Perhaps his team would have been able to unearth new evidence? Or perhaps Novak was just an ignorant asshole on a campaign against agent Don Eppes? He fumbled for his cell phone and switched it on. No messages. He stared at the display until it went dark. He should inform Craven about the prosecutor's decision. Don had done everything in his power. He called the director of San Quentin.

"Agent Reeves! Agent Reeves!" Theodore looked like a hamster on acid as he hurried toward Megan's desk. "I think I've found the trigger for Craven's irrational behavior."

Megan looked up from her screen, removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She had gone through Craven's file and had compared the individual murders with each other again and again. A quiet suspicion that the last two hadn't been Craven's doing crept into her mind. She couldn't be sure, but…

"Take a look at this ma'am!" Vasquez banged a sheet of paper on her desk.

Megan put her glasses back on. "With this handwriting you should've become a doctor, young man. Who's going to decipher this?"

"Sorry. I always write that way when I'm excited."

"As long as you can read it yourself there's no need to worry," Colby grinned as he and David entered.

The area around Megan's desk grew quiet. "Tell me what you found out," she prompted Vasquez.

"Approximately one year before Craven came to Los Angeles he had a car accident in San Diego. It wasn't his fault. He had the right of way and somebody crashed into his car. Craven suffered from a severe concussion and his optic nerve was damaged. I have a copy of his medical file here." He presented more sheets to Megan.

Colby shook his head. "And Junior here is the first to find out? What have all the others done? This is a case of sheer negligence!"

Megan chewed on her fingernail thoughtfully. "No, not at all. Junior has only gone another way. A little unconventional, but it worked. Look at the name on the form."

David read aloud, "Thomas A. Kuszinski. Could be a coincidence."

Megan shook her head, "I don't think so. We know him as Adrian Thomas Craven. The date of birth is identical."

"Coincidence," David insisted.

Megan shook her head firmly, put the fax aside and accessed the data for Craven's family on her computer, "Look here: Kuszinski is the maiden name of Craven's mother. Great Vasquez! You've done a good job," she praised her new colleague.

Colby patted the young man's shoulder appreciatively, "You can look after getting all the files on Craven from the hospital."

"Yes Sir!" Vasquez' ears glowed with excitement.

"If we should have a black out, we can use his ears as emergency lighting," David joked.

None of them had any clue as to the horrible consequences Don's talk with the prosecutor would have in the near future. tbc

_Special credits to my beta ritt! You do such a tremendous job!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Presen__t_

It was bad how Charlie suffered from the drug. Delinda spent all her time with him contrary to Strickler's order to keep away from the prisoner. Charlie's condition deteriorated visibly.

"You damned asshole!" Delinda yelled. "It looks like you gave him an overdose."

"Oh really?" was Strickler's laconic answer. "Why are you so sure about that, Madam Doctor?"

"I don't need to be a doctor to see it," she hissed. "He's still on it. Look at him – he's going to die. "

"And we'll do _what_, in your opinion?" Xavier asked. "We can hardly take him to a hospital."

"He stays where he is. I think he's a fighter. We don't have to worry about him." Strickler seemed bored.

"And if not? Adrian didn't mention a single word about killing Charles Eppes."

Strickler smiled and said coldly, "Sometimes shit happens."

Delinda slapped his face.

"If Adrian wasn't so obsessed with you, gorgeous, you would already be rotting someplace together with this Eppes."

Xavier chewed nervously on his fingernails. It was extremely dangerous to provoke Strickler. The last one who tried it had disappeared without trace.

"What time is it?" asked Strickler.

Xavier startled as if struck by a whip. "Shortly before nine."

"We have to return to downtown, to take care of the last preparations," Strickler said, staring into Delinda's eyes and stroking his forefinger over her cheek. "Don't you dare fool around with our hostage. I would deeply regret having to disfigure such a pretty face."

She took two steps back and spat on the ground in front of him. He only response was to wave at Xavier to follow him upstairs. Fortunately he left the keys to Charlie's prison on the table. With shaky fingers Delinda unlocked the steel door and turned on the light. Charlie lay curled up on the bed. She sat down next to him, feeling the cold sweat on his arm where she touched it. Charlie had at least stopped trembling. She touched his neck, checking for a pulse. She could hardly feel it.

What should she do? How could Adrian get involved with someone like Strickler? The man was pure evil. He didn't have any scruples and would do anything for the right price. Adrian used Strickler for those tasks which were beneath him, not wanting to get his hands dirty.

Delinda paced nervously. It was impossible to contact Adrian and ask for advice. For the first time in a long time being she was completely on her own. If she helped Charlie, she would not only incur Strickler's anger but Adrian also would not be overjoyed with her cheating on him. As though hypnotized, she stared at the helpless bundle of man in front of her. Suddenly, right in front of her, Charlie turned into Michael.

He reached out to her. "Delinda… please help me. _Please_," he begged desperately. "I need you. I'm not ready to die. Please Delinda, I'm so scared and the pain is awful."

"Michael!" she sobbed as the illusion ended.

Charlie extended his hand towards her. "You must help me." He began to hyperventilate.

Determined, she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, then sat down again on the bed. "Don't be afraid, Charlie. I'm here. But you must help me too, do you hear me?"

Delinda was frightened by her own courage. She tenderly ran her fingers through his dark curls and was reminded again of her brother. She carefully dragged Charlie to his feet. His knees threatened to buckle but with Delinda supporting him Charlie managed to stand. He slowly put one foot in front of the other. His vision blurred as energy seeped out of his body, making him feel as though he were about to faint.

Delinda felt his strength fading. "Charlie Eppes don't you give up now. Stay with me," she said encouragingly.

He stumbled.

"Come on, we've almost made it!"

He struggled along until they reached the stairs. Delinda took his left hand and pushed it against the banister.

He lifted his head.

The stairs seemed endless. "You can't be serious?!" Charlie muttered, shaking his head. Not a good idea, all things considered. Everything started to spin as though a hurricane raged inside him.

"God, I'm feeling really sick," he mumbled and threw up.

A black curtain fell in front of his eyes and Delinda's voice seemed to come from quite far away. "Stay with me Charlie, do you hear me? Stay with me."

But he didn't want to listen. The only thing he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. Delinda pulled and tugged at him in vain.

"Charlie! Stop letting giving up," a voice commanded. It wasn't Delinda's.

Somebody came towards him through the darkness. The shape was blurry but he knew the voice.

"Kindly get your ass up there."

"Don? How ...?"

"I'm not really here but _somebody_ has to make you get a move on. The girl risks her life for you, the least you can do is try to help."

"But I'm so tired Don, I ..."

"Blah, blah, blah – spare me. Get on with it." Don's face faded.

Delinda moved into his field of vision as she wiped his mouth with a cloth.

"We can do it Charlie, you and me."

He closed his eyes briefly to signal she got through to him. Walking up the stairs felt like climbing Mount Everest without extra oxygen. More than once his knees gave way but Delinda somehow managed to get him outside and into the passenger seat of her car. Then she slid behind the steering wheel. Where was the nearest hospital? Never mind, she'd find one. She turned the key but the car didn't start.

"Oh no… don't do this to me!" she yelled, beating her palm against the steering wheel. Worried, she glanced at Charlie. He didn't move. She tried repeatedly to start the engine, muttering, "Come on… come on…"

Two headlights appeared in the distance. Delinda closed her eyes and prayed. The lights grew closer and Delinda held her breath. Shortly before the car drew level with hers, the engine started.

"Thank you!" she whispered to the heavens.

She passed the other car, glancing in the rearview mirror as it went by. As the car gained speed Delinda hoped it wasn't too late for Charlie. She already knew what she was going tell them at the hospital and planned to disappear before the police showed up asking unpleasant questions. As far as Strickler and Adrian went she was still undecided but she felt sure she'd come up with something. The journey to the hospital seemed endless.

Delinda caressed Charlie's cheek. "We're almost there, do you hear me? We're almost there."

Relief washed over her as she pulled up in front of the emergency doors.

_10 days before_

"What the hell where you thinking, Special Agent Eppes?" Director Vasquez's voice boomed loudly in the conference room of the LA FBI Field Office. The director was Theodore's uncle.

"Novak is moving heaven and earth to suspend you. He told you specifically not to investigate Craven's case any further."

"But I ..."

"Which part of 'he's not going to obtain a list of new inquiries didn't you get, Eppes?!" the feisty man spat. "And then this unfortunate discovery of my nephew. Typical beginner's luck." He could barely conceal his pride even though it was the wrong time for it. "Craven's defense attorneys will ignite a bonfire. They'll call him 'legally insane'. The accident and resulting injuries will be the reason for his 'antisocial' behaviour. They're confident they'll convince the jury to find Craven not guilty by reason of insanity. He'll end up in a nuthouse with medical treatment instead of on death row. I don't have to explain to you what _that_ means," the director snapped.

"No Sir," Don retorted. "Are we done?"

The director cast a doubtful look at him. "Is that all you have to say? Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to inform Craven about Novak's decision? Who are you… his errand boy?"

Don took a deep breath. It was hard for him to stay in control and not just walk out.

"If you get another urge to pay a visit to Craven you call me first. Better yet would be for you to let it be from here on out. Got me?"

Don nodded.

The director turned his back on him and looked through the tinted glass windows. Down on the street people scurried about like ants. It was an impressive view.

"I still want to point out, Sir, that it's totally possible there's another serial killer running around Los Angeles," Don said stubbornly.

Vasquez turned, his face twisted in a grimace. "I've read your last report, Eppes. And I also know you're in contact with Lt. Walker in LAPD and that both of you are looking closely at the latest murders. However you didn't find a lead – did you?"

"No Sir." It was hard for Don to admit.

"Therefore, Eppes, cut down on Craven's case. I think there are enough other cases you and your team can take care of. My nephew is proud to work with you. It would be a pity if I had to suspend you." The conversation was over.

Don went back to his office.

"And ... what did he say?" Megan asked immediately.

"Forget it," he answered, annoyed. "What's up? Anything interesting?"

Colby shrugged. "Nothing. It seems the bad guys are on vacation. There's a small package on your desk, anonymous. The bomb squad checked it – it's clean."

Don went over to his desk. The package was roughly the size of a toaster and wrapped up prettily with a red ribbon. He opened it, thinking perhaps it was from Ivy. The woman was full of surprises. He remembered his last visit very well: candlelight dinner for two in her apartment, hot sex afterward, this time in bed and not the kitchen table. He'd licked the dessert from her naked body tenderly.

The smile froze on his face as he opened the 'present' and a terrible smell assaulted his nostrils.

"Holy shit," he yelped and threw the package on the desk.

Megan hurried to his side and stared, speechless. Colby, David and Theodore were also curious and looked inside. Theodore immediately regretted his decision as the smell prompted a wave of nausea.

"What the fuck is that?" was Colby's first reaction.

Megan composed herself and began to examine the contents. Somebody had sent a bloody heart to Don. Due to the high temperatures it had already started to decompose. "Look," she said. She went over to her desk and got out a pair of latex gloves.

"You're not going to ..." Don said, aghast.

"Don't worry. I'll leave it where it is but there's some kind of message for you."

She revealed a bloody envelope and took a letter out of it with sticky fingers. "'Home is where the heart is'," she read aloud. "'How much of your family's life lies in your heart, Eppes?' No signature."

Don didn't need one; he knew for sure who had sent the message. _Welcome to Craven's sick world,_ he thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Don arrived at Charlie's house shortly after 8 p.m. He still had keys to the front door from when he had fetched some things from the basement on the weekend.

"Hello, somebody there?"

No answer. Where could they be? He went on in the direction of the kitchen and stopped suddenly as he discovered the perfect outlines of a tiny little butt covered only by a shirt. Don swallowed hard. Amita was obviously rummaging about for something edible in the fridge. Charlie, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, came down the stairs soon after.

"Hey Don," he said surprised.

His brother showed no reaction. Charlie came around the corner wondering and followed Don's look. Now he knew the reason. Amita still hadn't noticed.

"Hello Don!" Charlie hollered and Amita jumped almost to the roof.

She slammed the door of the fridge and looked for cover behind the kitchen island.

Don spun around. "Hi – hi Charlie. I ... I'm sorry, I just wanted ... I still have the keys," he stammered. "I had no idea that Amita and you," he made some helpless gestures.

"Having sex?" Charlie said mischievously.

"Charlie!" Amita protested.

"What? It's only the truth. Why should you be running around just dressed in my shirt otherwise? Don's a big boy he can deal with it, can't you?" He patted his brother's shoulder. "And could you please be so kind and tell me what you are looking for. Cause I believe it's not Amita's lovely backside."

"I'm sorry Amita," Don said. "I just ... never mind. Where's Dad? Why isn't he at home?"

Charlie led him to the couch. "What about a beer first?" he suggested.

Don nodded, "That's a good idea."

"On its way."

Charlie disappeared in the kitchen where Amita leaned against the kitchen island, her face crimson. "I ... I'm, sorry, Charlie. I had no idea that he was watching me."

Without saying a word Charlie took three beers out of the fridge and opened them.

"I can't tell you how awful I feel about it," she continued.

Charlie took the bottles, turned round and left. Amita felt miserable. As she was passing them to hurry upstairs and get changed, Charlie suddenly cracked up laughing. Don and Amita couldn't help but follow suit. Neither had any idea what was going on, however.

It took some time before they calmed down. Amita got changed and joined them, now also wearing jeans and t-shirt.

"You should've seen your faces," Charlie gasped. "Don, you looked like you'd been struck by lightning and Amita… your expression was simply priceless."

They raised their bottles in silent recognition.

Charlie glanced at Amita and gently patted her thigh. "You'll have to get used to seeing Amita here regularly… right?"

Don's eyes widened. "Are you telling me ...?"

"Yes, as soon as I get back from France I'm moving in with Charlie." Amita nodded happily. "Of course we will have to discuss a few more details with Alan."

"I am happy for both of you," Don said. "Then I'll for sure have more time to-"

Charlie elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Don winced. "Ouch! that hurts! Let me finish speaking, dammit! I only wanted to say that I would have more chances for intelligent conversation." The silly grin returned to Don's face.

Laughing, Charlie shook his head. "I truly believe you, bro."

Don blinked. "Could these eyes lie?" He turned his gaze on Amita.

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend," Charlie protested with feigned anger.

"I'm not flirting with your girlfriend. Am I, Amita?"

"No comment," she replied with a grimace.

The banter continued for a while and then Don became serious. "Do you know when Dad will be back?"

Charlie shook his head. "No idea. He's at the theatre with Millie. For sure not before midnight. Why?"

Don hesitated, took a sip from the bottle and put it back on the table with shaky fingers. He ran his hand over his face. "From now on the house will be observed 24/7 and you and Dad get personal security. If necessary, Amita will get the same attention."

She and Charlie exchanged alerted looks. Silence fell.

Charlie took another sip. "Because of what?" he wanted to know.

"Because somebody threatened me and my family with murder. There you go," Don seemed relieved.

Any color had drained from Amita's face. "For heaven's sake, Don!" she exclaimed, reaching for Charlie's hand.

"You know who threatened you?" Charlie asked.

Don nodded slowly. "I think it's Craven, also known as the _Aura Killer_."

Charlie swallowed hard.

"He sent me a nice little package with a bloody message today. Fortunately it turned out the heart belonged to a pig."

Amita pulled a face in disgust. "How sick is that?"

"Kinda similar to what Colby said", Don stated flatly. "Of course there were no fingerprints on it and his note 'Home is where the heart is' was written with a computer. I am nevertheless convinced Craven's behind all this crap. Remember when I told you I'd paid him a visit and he insisted that he had nothing to do with the last two murders?" Charlie nodded. "He also mentioned the name of a guy who called himself Raphael and said he was responsible for the killings."

"Do you really think it might be possible?" asked Amita and felt her stomach churn.

"I ... Honestly I have no clue. I've told the whole story to the public prosecutor, but he didn't want to hear about it. He's stubborn as a mule. Novak… Charlie, I'm sure you remember him?"

His younger brother nodded and gnawed thoughtfully at his lower lip. "His girlfriend took advantage of you to give him some payback. I remember the two of you had gone to Vegas to spend a hot weekend there. Soon afterwards she returned to him, full of remorse. Since then he does everything he can to throw a spanner in your works. Not good news for any requests concerning Craven's case."

Don sighed, "You're right. And today ADA Vasquez took me to task unnecessarily just to tell me that I should back off or it would come to a sticky end with Novak."

Charlie closed his eyes briefly. "Could you give me the relevant data without cutting the ground from under your feet? Maybe it's possible to find out whether he's right or not. I consider the Brute-Force-Method the best." Don's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "In computer science, brute-force search or exhaustive search also known as GT - Generate and Test - is a trivial but very general problem-solving technique that consists of systematically enumerating all possible candidates for the solution and checking whether each candidate satisfies the problem's statement," Charlie started to explain, reinforcing his words with gestures and facial expressions. "For example, a brute-force algorithm to find the divisors of a natural number _n_ would be to enumerate all integers from 1 to _n_ and check whether each of them divides into _n_ without remainder. For another example, consider the popular eight queens problem, which asks to place eight queens on a standard chessboard so that no queen attacks any other. A brute-force approach would examine all the 64! /56! 178,462,987,637,760 possible placements of 8 pieces in the 64 squares, and, for each arrangement, check whether no queen attacks any other. Brute-force search is simple to implement and will always find a solution if it exists."

Don lifted his hands. "STOP Charlie! My brain's about to explode. Is there a simplified explanation?"

"Craven's game was his killings, so to speak. In his case we already have the solution: his victims. What I'm going to do is modify the method. It's quite possible that I'll find something to corroborate his statement."

"Good." The truth was Don didn't really grasp what Charlie was talking about. "How long will it take to come up with some results?"

Charlie shrugged. "I can't tell… maybe a few days."

"I'll help you," Amita offered, giving her boyfriend an enchanting smile. He gave her a sound kiss in return.

Tired, Don shoved his hand through his dark hair. "I can't tell you how long I've got permission for your surveillance, Charlie. It's important to act quickly."

"Don't worry, we will," Charlie said, trying to mask his concern. "I'm also going to tell dad what's going on if you don't mind."

Don got up. "Thanks a lot Charlie … Amita. I'm sending David with the documents tomorrow. Please be careful. If you see or hear anything, no matter what don't hesitate to give me a call. Although Craven is in San Quentin that doesn't mean he's cut off from his environment. His supporters are still out there, lurking in the dark."

Charlie tightened his jaw and looked his elder brother straight in the eye. "And how are you going to protect yourself?"

"I wear my bullet-proof vest and I have my weapon." Don patted his holster.

"You know, unlike you, Dad and I are not always out there on the street exposed to all kinds of danger," Charlie muttered.

Don hadn't seen him so concerned for a long time. Against his usual behavior Don felt obliged to give his little brother a big hug. "I'm sure we're gonna make it. Perhaps it's only a false alarm and within a couple of days we'll be laughing about it." He turned to the door.

Neither Charlie nor Amita felt he sounded too convincing.

Don had his hand on the doorknob before he stopped and turned to face them again. "Sorry for disturbing you. If I had known I would have called first." Looking at Charlie with shining eyes he added, "Time went by pretty fast, Chuck. I guess the times when I stuffed you with a bunch of chocolate on Christmas and told you fairytales are gone. In future I'm going to treat you more like a man and not like a toddler, I promise. Take care of yourselves… see you soon Amita." He hurried out the door, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. On the way to his black SUV Don looked around, deeply worried. He didn't see anyone apart from the strategically-placed FBI agents. The radio in his ear crackled briefly as one of the agents called in, letting him know everything was under control. tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Don had hardly gone when Charlie hurried into the garage. Amita followed him, frowning. With over- enthusiasm, he started to move boxes back and forth.

"However, that's definitely not my understanding of a romantic evening," Amita sighed, leaning against the wall.

"Excuse me," Charlie said, "but I knew I have copies of Craven's case someplace here. I know I must destroy the files but in this case I thought it might be useful ...," he apologized, and gave Amita a brittle smile as he discovered her reproachful look.

He was really sweet turning "the little eccentric professor" to the outside, a little clumsy and chaotic. She simply could not resist, approached him from behind and pressed herself against him while he already was thinking about the Brute-force method and rummaged about in an old carton for documents.

She tenderly nibbled at his earlobe and neck. Tickles ran down Charlie's spine, but a part of him still struggled to give in the feeling she caused.

He turned his head a little and mumbled, "Stop it Amita, I really have to concentrate."

"But you promised something to me before Don arrived. Don't you remember?"

"Er, no, I haven't and ..." he turned around annoyed, "it's just I can't concentrate on my work if you..."

"Keep groping you?" she finished the sentence mischievously and started to strip off her shirt, slowly.

Charlie swallowed hard, "You're not about to ... I mean, you mean, I think ... I mean you're not going to do what I'm thinking you're going to do?" he stammered.

"You are so sweet … stammering like a teenager on his first date," she gave him a loving smile and dropped off her jeans.

Then she got close to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a promising kiss that made Charlie's body straining for release.

"Amita, what, if Dad and Millie ..." he mumbled between two breathtaking kisses.

"They won't be back soon, don't worry," she said, wiping his doubts away.

"But ..."

"Charlie?!"

"What?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Charlie Eppes wasn't resistant to female attraction, so he decided to give in.

He nevertheless hesitated, "And you really wanna do it, here in the garage?"

Amita grinned from ear to ear, "The old couch looks very invitingly, don't you think?"

Before he could answer she'd sealed his lips with another heated kiss, which turned him in to wax in her hands.

Don dropped off his car, totally exhausted. After he had left Charlie and Amita, he'd gone back to the office once more, to speed him up on the latest news. And what had he learned? Nothing, nada. It would definitely become a problem to justify Charlie's and Alan's observation over a longer time period. Pissed, he went to his apartment. He locked the car and went over to the entrance. What was this?

Had his tired eyes played a trick on him or had there actually a dark shadow darted over the forecourt and disappeared into the staircase? Don's nerves were on edge. He pulled his gun and followed the unsub. The entrance door hardly felt shut as he heard the clicking of heels heading up the stairs toward his apartment.

He gave a quiet curse and switched on the light. Had Craven sent a female killer after him? Or was this guy just wearing a pair of bloody expensive Italian shoes? Don was prepared everything, almost everything. He carefully worked his way forward from floor to floor, with the gun in an aiming position and released the safety catch. Don was afraid his own heartbeat might tell the intruder where he was.

The blood was pounding in his ears like taiko drums. He heard the clicking again. Don held his breath when the automatic timer switched off the corridor light and it went pitch-black around him.

He nervously licked his lips and hissed, "SHIT!"

He did not wear a Kevlar vest either. It was in the trunk of his car together with the radio and all his other equipment. An assassination in the staircase of his own apartment complex? The thought was totally absurd.

But one could never know and now there he stood alone in the dark, and he could only guess where the intruder was hiding. As he approached the landing, he made the perfect target. As quietly as possible, he crept over to the elevator and jabbed the button. With a deafening "ping," the door slid open. Don jabbed the button with his floor number on it, but he didn't enter. He was sure if the elevator reached its destination the assassin would turn his full attention to the door for certain.

It was all a question of timing. The sweat beaded on Don's forehead and ran down his spine, he huffed out a breath. A bead of sweat got into his left eye. It burned, but he ignored the pain. His muscles were tensed and all his senses were on high alert. The elevator arrived. Don jumped out from his cover at the same time he heard the "ping."

He took two steps at once. In front of him he discovered someone whose shape stood out against the pale moonlight.

"FBI, freeze," he hollered out and felt kind of stupid. This was like a bad B-movie. The door of the elevator went shut. Darkness returned.

"Stay where you are," Don ordered, "hands up where I can see them, c'mon."

Suddenly the door next to him flew open; Don almost pulled the trigger but stopped in the very last moment. He recognized old Murphy, one of his neighbors.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" he snarled.

His breath stank from whisky; the old man was obviously drunk, "Why the fuck are you fumbling around with a gun in front of my nose?" He looked at Don as if he was E.T. on a stopover on planet earth.

"Mr. Murphy, would you please be so kind and close your door?" Don muttered and remarked to his horror that the dark shape had disappeared at the other end of the hall.

Murphy scratched his ass, "No way. This is more thrilling than fucking CSI on TV."

Don had lowered his gun, "Mr. Murphy, please, it is for your own safety."

The old man mumbled incomprehensible things. The guy smelled like a brewery and could intoxicate the whole building for sure.

Furiously he slammed the door in Don's face, "Thank you," Don muttered then drew his attention back to the end of the hall. This time he took care that the light remained on.

"Don?" he heard a female voice. "Don? Can I come out without being shot?"

"Dear Lord, Ivy!" Don's physical strain had disappeared with a blow.

"Yes, it's me, Goddamit." She stepped out into the light.

She wore a black trench coat, black stockings and high heels. Smiling, he hurried toward her and pulled her in his arms.

"Never ever do this again Ivy, I'm begging you, never ever do this again. Especially on a day like today," he mumbled and pressed his lips hard on hers.

"What is wrong with you? I have left a message on your voicemail," she said.

He sighed holstered his gun and took the keys and the cell from the inside pocket of his jacket.

He held the cell in front of her eyes, "I'm sorry I forgot to charge it. The battery's dead."

"Well then you have to think about a fair compensation. You scared the shit out of me," she teased him while he was unlocking the door of his apartment, "and you almost killed me."

When they were inside, he gave her a smack on the bottom, "I would never do this," he said tenderly and wanted to help her with her coat.

She escaped him and went into the living room.

"What about a drink?" She already had her fingers at the light switch and the lights dimmed.

When Don came back with two glasses of red wine, Ivy stood there, her back to him. The trench coat was gone. Don was amused, because he'd expected something like that: Apart from a bra, a string holder, less stockings, and high heels, she was naked.

"Wow, the Victoria's Secret latest autumn collection," he said in a husky voice.

"Oh, a man with taste," she turned around and took him into her arms briefly.

Shortly afterwards, she lifted her head to look him into the eyes and wrinkled her cute snob nose, "the man with taste could really use a shower."

Don smelled at his shirt and nodded, "Yes, he could. Stay where you are, I'll be back in a few minutes."

She already had other plans. Don stood under the shower for hardly two minutes, soaked from head to heels as she joined him. She'd left the lingerie in the living room.

"What a surprise," he said his voice like soft silk.

"I can scrub your back if you want," she said and winked invitingly.

He washed the soap from his body and pushed her gently against the tiled wall covering her face with kisses and followed the path down her neck. He bit her slightly into her neck. She moaned out loudly. Then, he returned back to her mouth teasing her with fake kisses, which made her furious.

"Don, you're driving me insane," she mumbled and felt the pounding between her legs.

Her body was yearning for him and so she pushed herself against him.

The hot water drummed down on both as Don lifted her up and pressed deeper as her muscles contracted around him. He moaned quietly. She called out his name buried her face in the curve of his shoulder.

He set their bodies in a rhythm and as he thrust again she cried out, "Oh God. Yes. I want you so badly."

At some point, he'd lost the thread of conversation. There was a muffled cry in the distance and he felt her body contracting around him. Her pleasure finally catapultated him into his own. He'd practically had heart failure toward the end so hard was his pulse.

Later, they lay in bed, Ivy steeping in the kaleidoscope of sensation which he'd gifted her. She pressed a gentle kiss on his hairy chest and settled her head back on his arm. Since this whole nightmare started Don hadn't felt so good. He rolled them to their side, grabbed her buttocks, and pulled her close, so they remained as one.

A long time later after she'd thought he'd be asleep, she felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek, "You are the best medicine for me." Then he kissed her good night. tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ivy felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She slowly opened the eyes, just enough to notice disappointed that Don's side of the bed was empty. Instead, the smell of fresh brewed coffee hit her nostrils. She rolled on the back and lolled pleasurably. When she discovered Don, she stopped. He looked fantastic as he stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He'd crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched her. The only problem: He already wore a blackbutton down shirt and grey trousers.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, yawning.

"I've no idea," he replied dreamily, "absolutely no idea. I think I could look at you for hours."

"Only look?" she teased him, "you'd be satisfied just by looking at me? And why are you already dressed?"

He patted his pager, "duty calls. I have to be at the office in twenty minutes. However, you can stay here. I put the keys on the drawer in the living room. You can drop them at my office, later."

She grimaced, "it doesn't feel right lying here without you."

Ivy sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, then she extended longingly both hands toward Don. Obviously, it didn't matter that the sheet slipped and he had a clear view on "Fred and Ginger," as Ivy called her breasts.

"Let me give you a hug before you leave," she begged with a look on her face Don simply could not resist.

Sighing, he went over to her and before he knew what happened he came lying on her.They kissed each other as they had not met for months.

"You know, I really must go now", he said in a husky voice.

"Some parts of your body don't agree," she put her hand between his legs.

"This part doesn't have to talk to the AD and to the major part of the department in about fifteen minutes."

"Call in sick,"she suggested, pulled him down once again and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I have to go," he muttered, "I'm really sorry."

He reluctantly escaped her embrace.

"I think you should hold your jacket in front of you,"she smirked.

Don looked down on him, "now you see what you do to me. I'm your will-less sex slave." He winked at her.

She fell back into the pillow, blew him a kissand pulled the blanket over her head.

Don entered the FBI Building with the same dreamy expression he had left his apartment with.

"Wow, Don," Megan welcomed him, "I thought only women have this certain expression on their faces."

"Which expression?"

"I've just been laid ... But woman still can learn something from you. May I guess? Ivy?"

Don cleared his throat and tried to put on his I'm-on-duty-face, "Why are you obviously so interested in my love life lately?"

"Because it's nice that you have one after all," she smirked, "after the thing with Liz, we already thought you would becomean asexual, grumpy celibate. Ivy finally brought back ole Don, hail Ivy. Whaddayathink guys?"

Colby and David nodded, agreeing, "Pass our greetings and most devoted gratitude on to her," Colby grinned.

"I guess now you've lost all your marbles," Don said biting back a grin.

Then he went over to the kitchen to pour himselfone more coffee and returned minutes later.

"Any idea what the AD is going to tell us?" Don thoughtfully stirred in his coffee.

"As far as I know is all about Craven," Theodor reported, who came strolled along the aisle.

Colby grunted, "Our secret weapon the man with the supersensory abilities."

"If this is an allusion to my discovery concerning Craven's medical history, let it be," he snarled, "my uncle gave me a talking-to. Don't think because I'mt he nephew of AD Vasquez I could rest on my laurels. On the contrary, I have to work my ass off twice as hard because he permanently is looking over my shoulder."

"Just take it easy junior," Don said and nodded at Colby, "we're all in the same boat."

"You think Mr. Testosterone already got it?" Theodor hissed.

Colby wanted tosay something, but Don lifted his hand because he was curious, on the information the newbie had for them, "Do you know anything else about the meeting?"

Theodor shook the head, "No, I'm sorry.I've picked up only some fraction when I have passed by the conference room."

Don would've been prepared for anything in Craven's case but not for this.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen," Vasquez opened the meeting, "due to the last day's events and the surprising development in the "aura-killer-case" I would like to inform you that Mr. Craven is going to be transferred from San Quentin to a special facility for dangerously disturbed prisoners."

Jeers and calls of protest filled the air.

The AD lifted both arms and made appeasing gestures, "Quiet, please, ladies and gentlemen! I know that this procedure differs from the norm but, Craven has tried to kill himself again. This time with an electric cable he'd put around the neck. God only knows where it came from."

Don felt as if somebody had given him a blow into the gut.

"The guy's just cheating," Colby hollered out to drown the outraged crowd.

"He is a manipulative dirty scumbag and uses everyone," said Theodor.

"And who the hell declared him nuts?" Megan wanted to know but got no answer.

The riot was understandable. A long, hard investigation was destroyed by this action practically.

If Craven succeeded, it was doubtful there would ever be a trial. The AD felt to be in the middle of a hostile minefield, because there was hardly an employee who did not casta devastating look at him.

"Jesus, I don't believe it,"Don's voice almost somersaulted when he and the team went backto their office, "one could think this guys does have demonic support."

Theodor nodded knowingly,"Oh yes, he has, in the form of damned good advocates. The best of the town: Ryker, Morse and Bernstein. Ring a bell?"

"Doris Grapevine," Megan said in a low voice, "the woman who butchered her eight years elder brother brutally and justified this deed by telling the jury he's abused her for years. She was acquitted. Later she killed her hubby and called it self defense. He should've tried to rape her. Again she was acquitted. The woman with her angelic face and her bloody expensive lawyers pulled a great stunt in front of the jury."

"Sounds like you admire her", David said frowning, "do you know what happened to her?"

"She got numerous offers from Hollywood. Everyone wanted to make a movie about her life."

"But?"

"Maybe she was cursed by one of her victims. One day she was found with her face down in her swimming pool in Malibu. A film script laid on one of the deck chairs. She'd made some scribbling into it and truth was disclosed: Contrary to her statements in front of the court she'd committed the deeds with full intention."

Theodor swallowed hard, "That sounds like a splatter movie. I knew the case but not in detail." He blew out a breath, "Perhaps the spirits ..."

"Theo, this is not "Supernatural," Colby cut him short.

"If these fellows represent Craven, the prospects look bleak," Don muttered in consternation.

His - up till now airtight - case was falling apart.

"But they can't obtain an acquittal, can they? I mean like in the case of this Grape snake,"Theodor got into it.

Megan shook her head, "The preventive detention in a special facility for dangerously disturbed prisoners if also for life, is not the punishment which the surviving relatives of Craven's victims have on their minds."

Don's cell rang, "Eppes," he snapped.

"Sorry for disturbing you, it's Detective Walker from LAPD. We have found something in a piece of woodland near Encino. You should come and take a look at it."

"OK, we're on our way. But it'll take some time, we've rush hour."

"Excellent, in the meantime I keep an eye on the scene," Walker said, and cut the line.

"Hurry up guys", Don said grumpily, "this was our friend Detective Walker from LAPD. He needs our help."

"And where?" Colby rummaged about in his desk.

"In a piece of woodlandnear Encino. And I have the bad feeling that what's waiting there for us won't be a surprise party."

They took two cars in case they had to separate. Their hands were tied for the moment, anyway. The investigations in Craven's case were put on hold definitely.

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"Good morning, Professor Eppes," Millie's voice came from behind.

Charlie spun around.

"Shouldn't you have a little something for me?" She wiggled with herbrows.

"I'm still working on it," he snarled and got back towork.

His speedy fingers, armed with a piece of chalk, literally flew across the board in front of him and changed his thoughts into numbers.

"I would have wished that you immortalize your effusions on paper. Don't youthink these wood things are quite bulky?"

He drew a breath before he turned once more, "at the moment Shakespeare let me down. So I thought I'm trying to concentrate on something conventional before my next lesson."

"Something for your brother?"

"How did you know?"

She put on her glasses and looked at Charlie's writing.

"Brute-force, I love this method. But what is this?" She got closer and pointed at the beginning of the fourthrow from the left, "that's new to me."

"The case is already completed and there are a couple of new facts. I have therefore installed an algorithm which allows a reverse," he explained, full of pride.

"I see it, but this sequence ..." she frowned, "this is like nailing Jello tothe wall."

She held outher hand so he could giveher the chalk. Then she took the sponge and deleted parts of the formula to write it anew.

After she was done she stepped back and nodded satisfied, "Now that looks good, what do you think professor?"

His strained facial expression brightening up as he discovered how she had approached the solution of the problem. Now he knew why his algorithm hadn't been working.

"Thanks Millie", he said meekly, "you've saved me a lot of time."

"No doubt about that," she smirked,"and now you can completely dedicate theseprecious hoursto the treatise."

She was about to leave but turned on her heel, "Before I forget ... You are going to Bakersfield for a discourse about data mining in connection with OLAP. Some folks from the field of finances, marketing and biotechnology are waiting there for you desperately."

Charlie's jaw dropped, "You ... you can't do that, Millie. My schedule is full."

"I know but it's time that you proof how multi-talented you are. In addition some of these people are more than willing to give us financial support for future projects."

She patted his shoulder, "You are an Eppes, you can handle it. Meet me later in my office for all the necessary details."

The door slammed shut.

"Millie has left the building," he hissed and tossed the piece of chalk across the room.

What the hell had his father done to this woman that she was so ... YUCK, only thinking about it gave him the creeps. tbc

OLAP online _**Analytical Processing**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was already 11 am when Don and his team finally arrived on the spot. Since yesterday Los Angeles was struck by a heat wave. And when Don and his team strode along the path lined already by policemen the unmistakable smell of decomposition hit their nostrils. Colby looked worried at Theodor. The color had drained from his face completely.

"Hey Junior, everything's okay?"

Theodor nodded weakly, "I think I just have to get used to all the corpses and the things that come along with them."

Megan stopped and rummaged about in her coat pocket. She pushed the newcomer a little tin into the hand, "Here you are this is menthol paste. You put it under your nose, then it won't be so bad."

Theodor unscrewed the lid and examined the content mistrustfully.

"It's okay Junior," David said, "we're not telling anyone. C'mon I've used it myself at the beginning?"

"No bullshit man?"

David shook laughing his head, "no bullshit Junior."

Don liked the way his team helped the newbie along. Every one of them had been a newbie once and discovering a body left no one cold. Even now that they were on duty for years their stomachs churned from time to time. The closer they got the more penetrating the smell was. And Theodor fought frantically his nausea despite lots of paste below the nose. They came across a clearing and Don discovered Dt. Gary Walker few feet ahead.

"Hello Walker", he yelled and lifted his hand.

Walker nodded and waved the FBIs over. Numerous flies buzzed around.

"What the hell is that?" Don said and crouched next to Walker while putting on the latex gloves.

Walker lifted one end of the tarpaulin that covered the body.

Out of a reflex Don put his right hand protectively in front of mouth and nose, "holy shit", he hissed and blew out a breath.

"That's exactly what I had on my mind," Walker stated dryly.

Don barked some orders at his people. Then he took a closer look at the crime scene and the corpse itself.

"She's been here for three or four days."

Walker nodded, "the ME means approx. four. We'll get more information after the autopsy and the forensic examinations. It's terrible; she must have been a real beauty. "

"And very young, she's not older than fifteen", Megan considered, "any idea who she is?"

"Her name is Lydia Wise. Her parents reported her missing two days ago."

Walker took a little branch into his hand and twisted it, "Don am I mistaken or does something seem familiar to you and me?"

Don swallowed hard; he'd already feared that somebody else would notice it.

"This looks like a copycat of the last two murders we assigned to Craven. The tarpaulin, the surrounding, the lethal wounds at the neck, no doubt he used a garrote. All they have to do now is to confirm she had GHB in her blood system and we're back in the game ..." Walker scratched the back of his head thoughtfully.

Megan got closer and put a hand on Don's shoulder.

He was still crouching next to the corpse.

"Then he's been telling you the truth."

"Who?" Walker asked irritated.

"Adrian Craven," Don replied dryly, "I've paid him a visit a couple of days ago. He has told me that he didn't kill the last two victims but he knows who did it. He said it's a guy who calls himself Raphael."

"And nobody thought it would be worthwhile to inform LAPD about this development?" Walker could not conceal its anger and got up.

Don followed him, "listen, I went straight to Novak to inform this asshole and got nothing but trouble. The AD told me to cut down on Craven's case cause nobody is interested to obtain a list of new inquiries for what reason ever."

Walker put a chewing gum into the mouth, "Unfortunately according to Lydia Wise's death they will have to deal with it now. Cause Craven was behind bars during the time of murder. It can't be him."

Cursing Don shoved his fingers through his hair leaving it spiky, "his lawyers will be very happy about it, again more evidence that exonerate their defendant."

Colby joined them, "we have found numerous tire tracks over there. No wonder. Except for the fact that a there's a rotten corpse hidden in the brushwood this place is very popular for people who prefer outdoor to indoor sex, if you know what I mean."

Walker barked a laugh, "a wisecrack here and a hard growl there, I like you, Colby."

Colby flashed a smile and got serious, "I do not think we will find any usable traces."

Also David in tow with Theodor returned from their fact-finding-tour.

Don cast a questioning look at them "and?"

"Lots of garbage, furniture and other stuff. It's unbelievable what people unload in the wild but nothing that could really help us," he replied.

Don sighed and turned to Theodor, "are you doing well?"

The newbie sprang to attention, "yes Sir! Thank you, Sir that I was allowed to explore the area together with agent Sinclair."

Don and the rest of the team including Dt. Walker almost cracked up.

"Make yourself comfortable recruit ", Don chuckled and took off his latex gloves.

With a mischievous look on his face he said, "I am not your drill sergeant Theodor. Behave like an agent."

Don secretly was grateful to the newbie for his unintentionally comical behavior. Finally the whole strain that felt like Damocles Sword was gone.

"You would've been the perfect Marine," Colby said and patted Theodor's shoulder brotherly.

Walker took Don aside when he was about to follow his team back to their SUV's.

"If you want, I can talk to Novak this time. I have heard some rumors..." he grimaced, "that you loathe him."

Without going into it Don said, "Excellent. I'm sure you'll handle it."

"And you won't tell me anything about the rumors, I mean you know me already a couple of years now and I think ..."

"No comment," Don cut him short and turned round.

"Okay, I don't need to know everything. Maybe at another time at another place with a six pack on our side ..." Walker yelled.

Don lifted his hand without turning round.

Shortly afterward Walker passed Megan who had stopped to tie up her shoe laces.

"I know you guys for some time now but I have never before experienced a case that is such a blow for Don," he said to her in a low voice.

"You weren't the one who received an abominable threat either," she replied and wanted to continue her way.

He gently put his hand on her lower arm, "what threat?"

"I thought he told you about."

Walker shook the head.

"Craven has given a certain meaning to his "request" for resumption by sending Don the bloody heart of a pig, supported by the words: "Home is where the heart is. Don assumed not only his life but also that of his family is in danger."

"And what are the opinions of prosecutor Novak and the FBI concerning this matter?"

"You don't want to know. They don't think like us the guys who are out on the streets of LA risking their lives day by day."

"Fucking pencil pushers," Walker snapped, "they seemed they need something terrible to happen before they get into gear. I'm going to instruct my people to boost patrols and increase their attention around the area of Don's apartment and also the house where his family lives. I know, it's not much but no one can forbid it and I'll sleep better, too."

Megan squeezed his hand gently, "thank you very much Dt. Walker, that's very kind of you, I tell Don. And by the way congrats on your promotions even it's been awhile."

He nodded at her and went back to the crime scene while she hurried to meet the team.

"Larry won't be amused if I tell him about your flirt with Walker," Don joked. He'd watched their conversation.

"There's nothing about a midday flirt with an LAPD detective. Especially if he's as charming as Walker," she got into the game.

"Wow, Megan did he brainwash you? What did he want?" Don's face got serious.

"He doesn't like how authorities deal with problems between certain FBI employees and serial killers named Craven. He decided to instruct his people to boost patrols around the area of your apartment and also Charlie's and Alan's house."

Don fired up the engine, "if you consider that at first I did not like the fellow at all ..."

Megan grinned mischievously, "I think your enmity was mutual."

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Raphael stood in front of the house of Rose Winters and her parents. No, not exactly. He had sat in his unremarkable, brown Chevy Nova. He watched them with Zeiss field-glasses. Rose and their Dad had returned from school. He glanced at the watch. Right on time, like every day. Rose got off the car. She moved like a true princess. He was aroused to the utmost. His mouth was watering and he started already to imagine what beautiful things he would do to her, if she was living with him. Her parents couldn't give her what he could. Rage was bubbling inside of him. Rose walked around the car to meet her father.

The wind played with her long blonde hair. Raphael imagined it would be his fingers that caressed her soft colored cheeks. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. His mouth got dry. He put the field glasses aside and took his camera to his hand. He started to shoot photos. He could hardly concentrate on the job because his body was yearning for sweet Rose. Rose and her father fortunately talked a while.

Later, he sat in his room in the shabby motel. With shaky fingers he jabbed the printer button. One photo after the other came out, everything in high-resolution quality.

He was about to undress when one of the pictures caught his full attention. Furiously he took it into his hand and he looked at it closely. What's that? What was Rose's father doing to her? How did he look at his own daughter? He huffed out a sob and swept another stack of photos from the table. He was taken aback. A father wasn't allowed to look and touch his daughter in such a way. Disgusting!

"She's not innocent. She's a filthy bitch like all the others. She don't deserve to live she has to die!"

He fell on his knees and whined. Then he curled up. Why did it hurt so much? Why? He was the one who should be at her side and not this miserable SOB. And now she'd spoiled it all by behaving like a hooker. He rolled on the back, the picture slipped from his hand.

It showed Rose kissing her father gently on his cheek nothing any other kid wouldn't do either. tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Presence_

Delinda grabbed the New York Yankee baseball cap from the backseat and pulled it down over her face. She wanted to make sure her face couldn't be recognized as she passed by the security cameras. She also tried to park the car in a camera blind spot. No doubt she would get into serious trouble because she'd freed Charlie. She hurried into the ER and desperately called for help.

"What happened, miss? Please, calm down."

"I can't. You have to hurry please! There's a young man outside in my car, I picked him up on the side of the road a couple of miles from here. I don't know what happened to him. He doesn't respond, please!" Tears cascaded down her pale face. She was still careful, however, not to met the nurse's gaze.

Some nurses arrived with a gurney, "Ma'am where's your car?"

"On the left, next to the main entrance."

They hurried outside followed by Delinda. One of the men carefully pulled Charlie out of the car.

"He's got no pulse, come on hurry up!" He hollered. "Take him to room two."

"Is he going to be okay?" Delinda gripped the man's arm.

"Ma'am please let me go," he demanded.

They quickly rolled the gurney down the corridor to the ER. Delinda tried to follow.

"Sorry, miss. You can't come with him. Please have a seat here," the nurse said kindly.

"He is going to be okay, isn't he?" Delinda asked.

"We'll do everything we can. While you're waiting could you please be so kind as to fill out this form for me?"

The nurse put the forms on the counter. Delinda looked at them, her vision becoming blurry.

"I'm ... I'm sorry, I ... I can't." She stuttered and rushed outside.

"But miss, hey ..." the nurse called out. But it was in vain, Delinda was gone.

Meanwhile in the emergency room about five people were buzzing around Charlie.

Somebody yelled, "He's asystolic!"

An injection of epinephrine was quickly prepared and administered into Charlie's vein. Another nurse cut the t-shirt from his body.

"Gimme two hundred joules." The doctor ordered. The defibrillator beeped when ready and the doctor immediately applied the pads and triggered the charge.

No response. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Two fifty," he barked. Another shock convulsed Charlie's body. "Three hundred joules!"

_Charlie was blinded by __the blazing sunlight. He protectively lifted a hand in front of his eyes. _

_"Where am I?" H__e asked himself. His question echoed back at him from all directions. _

_His eyes slowly adjusted __to the light. At first he thought he had to be at CalSci. The place looked quite similar. But where were all the students? He started walking. A few feet away a bunch of people were talking. He moved faster. Charlie frowned, he knew these people, he was sure of it. Their voices, their gestures, everything seemed so familiar. A shape broke loose from the group. It was a woman, his mother. She waved and gave him a warm and friendly smile._

_He started to run. Suddenly he crashed into a wrought-iron gate __over eight feet high that had appeared from nowhere. _

_"Mom!" He yelled desperately at the still waving woman. "Mom, is it you?" _

_She nodded._

_It was odd but he got the sudden impression that she had a sad look on her face. _

_A nun in a white dress appeared at the gate and opened it. "What do you want"? _

_"I have to go to my mother. P__lease, let me in." _

_The nun shook the head. "Y__oung man, that's impossible." _

_Charlie desperately stretched his hands through the bars, "Mom please! Come here and tell her to let me in." _

_His mom did not move._

_"Mom, please," he sobbed. _

_"Young man would you please back off. Your time hasn't come yet," The nun said a little more firmly. _

_"But ... but ... my mother, please, she's over ..." _

_"You shouldn't even be here. Something's terribly wrong. End of discussion." _

There was a deafening bang like somebody had hit the gate with a bat.

"He's back, we have him back," the young doctor announced in relief. "Now let's get him stabilized."

_Six days earlier_

Dt. Walker sat together with Don, Megan and Colby in a small Italian Restaurant.

"I'm sorry Don, I've really tried everything but Novak is acting like a bullheaded moron and has got himself some support as well," he said with an apologetic gesture. "Lydia's case is to be treated separately."

"That's ridiculous, nobody can be so blind as to not see the connection to the other two murders," Megan complained.

Walker took a swig from his glass, "They don't say there isn't a connection. They say it's a copycat. The killer must be one of Craven's fucked up followers. It's as simple as that."

"Sure, for someone who has absolutely no idea what's going on and isn't interested in facts," Don mumbled.

"Have you or your family been threatened again?" Walker wanted to know.

Don shook the head, "No new threats. The authority to continue surveillance has been withdrawn as of today. True to the motto: Help yourself."

Walker cleared his throat, "I'm sorry to hear that. My people will still boost their patrols. I wish there was more I could do."

"Thanks a lot Walker, I owe you," Don said.

"How much do you get for assaulting a prosecutor?" Colby asked all of a sudden.

"Come on Colb," Don said tiredly. "Let it be."

"No, I'm serious. I wanna beat the shit out of him. He should lose his self-satisfied grin together with his shiny white veneers. The guy is such an arrogant asshole." Colby flared up.

"Then you have to stand in line." Walker stated dryly, "I bet this guy is the most hated prosecutor in town."

"That's great then we'd have a bunch of suspects we could blame," Colby grinned and drained the glass.

"I don't get how Novak has so much influence. It's like not even Justice would be blind concerning this case. Everyone is closing their eyes."

"And I know the reason for it. We've messed up some things. And if I say _we_ I mean every one of us. The FBI can't afford to make further mistakes," Don explained.

"And to protect their reputations they are willing to risk your life and those of your family," Colby stated dryly. "It's the same as being undercover. When the shit hits the fan you're left wearing it. It's us who put our asses at stake, God damnit. And if something goes wrong you get a funeral at public expense or you receive a pension that isn't even worth talking about, too little to live on and too much to die for."

Walker knew what Colby was talking about. "You're talking about Lt. Floyd."

Don and Megan cast questioning looks at them.

Colby sighed.

"It came in the news today." Walker continued, "Floyd lost a leg in a shootout with some drug dealers downtown. That was two years ago now. Then a few months ago he paid me a visit at the station house and told me that Wanda, his wife, is suffering from breast cancer. We immediately took up a collection for them. But it was just a drop in the ocean. She died last week and today they found Floyd. He'd blown his head off with a shot gun."

"Jesus Christ," Don said shocked.

Fortunately they'd finished dinner a while ago.

"I wish I had Theo's enthusiasm and impartiality," Colby mused. "At first I considered him a spoiled brat. But he's not. His parents seem to have brought him up to be very down to earth."

The waitress served another round of beer.

Don raised his glass. "A toast to all our colleagues who have lost their lives, both on and off duty."

Shortly after 10 pm they left the restaurant.

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Charlie finished packing his bags for the trip to Bakersfield and retired to the garage.

"Where's Larry?" Alan asked as he entered Charlie's refuge.

"Larry? He's not coming. NASA has him in its talons once more," Charlie replied shortly. It was difficult for him to concentrate on the brute force calculations and at the same time listen to his father.

"Then who's coming with you?"

"Dad, I'm old enough to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter," he complained.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Alan wasn't ready to give up.

"Dad please, I'm busy. I want Amita to know what she has to deal with. I need to finish this concept."

"Amita? She's coming? Does she sleep here? If you want, I can ..."

"Amita is coming here tomorrow afternoon, but she won't stay here." Charlie kept on writing. "Dad, please. I appreciate your anxiety but what could possibly happen, anyway? Craven is in a maximum security prison, calm down." Charlie said trying to soothe his father.

"I wish they would shoot him to the moon, Charlie. He has threatened Donnie and us. You should not underestimate him." Alan was obviously annoyed. "By the way, what about Donnie? Did you tell him about your plans, tell him your route?"

"Dad," Charlie dropped the chalk. "I'm just driving to Bakersfield, mostly on the highway. I'm not going to join the Paris-Dakar. My cell battery is charged and I have pepper spray in the glove compartment."

Alan's brow shot up. "Really?"

Charlie grinned amused. "Of course not. Look, it's not the first time I've left LA."

"If I had not accepted this advisory role at "Kline and Sons", I would drive with you." Alan nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

"Marvellous idea, dad." His youngest one snapped. "What would the guys at Berkley University think if one of the cleverest heads of CalSci appears with his daddy in tow?"

"I don't give a damn about what they think." Alan snapped in return.

Charlie turned around. "Have you had that nightmare about mom again? The one where you are hiking with her and suddenly you're hit by an avalanche ..."

"Nonsense Charlie, I haven't had that nightmare for months now. That has nothing to do with this," Alan said harshly.

Charlie finished the formula. He went over to his dad and put an arm around his shoulders, "I promise that I will call you after I leave the highway. And I'll give you a call after I check in at the hotel. Okay?"

Alan nodded slowly. "When are you leaving?"

"About four in the morning. I will be in Bakersfield by around seven and can prepare everything for the seminar."

Charlie glanced at the blackboard. Then he switched off the light and followed Alan back into the house.

He hardly got any sleep that night. Restlessly he tossed and turned from one side to the other. Again and again he thought about the formula and recalled parts of the case. Following a sudden inspiration he jumped up from bed at two am and ran over into the garage. There he stood in front of the blackboard and looked at the formulas. He visualized groups of numbers, compared them with the case files and combined them with other possibilities. Finally he sat down in front of his notebook and e-mailed Amita some instructions.

He suddenly realized that time had passed much too quickly and that he had to hurry if he wanted to keep to his time schedule. He rushed into the bathroom to take a shower. Shortly afterwards he snatched the notebook and the bag with his documents packing them into his car before he returned to the house to get his traveling bag.

Unnoticed, his cell phone slipped from the top of the bag.

No one had the slightest idea that Craven's people had hacked into Charlie's cell. They were informed about his plans in detail.

"Joyce, he's leaving." The man parked in a car down the road reported into his radio. He started up his car ready to follow the professor.

"You've got enough time to prepare the road."

The radio crackled briefly in his ear. "We're on our way, over and out." tbc

A huge THANK YOU to ALEO who betaed this chapter for me. You did a great job!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Leaving the highway Charlie totally forgot about calling his father. His thoughts circled around his calculations. Had he considered everything and did Amita have all the data she needed? At the very last moment Charlie saw the woman who stood in the middle of the road desperately waving her hands. He slammed on the breaks.

"Please, you must help me!" she yelled and ran toward him.

Blood was seeping from a wound on her cheek, "please come with me, my husband is still in the car. He doesn't respond. I do not know what to do."

It was Charlie's first reaction to reach for his mobile to call for help. But he couldn't find it.

Charlie rolled down the window, "do you have a cell phone?"

The woman didn't appear to hear him as she was desperate and sobbing. Normally it was Don's part to play the hero but he wasn't there. Reluctantly Charlie parked the car and went over to the woman who'd since returned to her car. Her husband was jammed in the driver seat. It looked serious and Charlie could smell gasoline. He looked around a little desperately but there was no one else around. From the corner of his eye he saw a movement, then he felt a blow to his head. Everything went dark.

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Shortly after 6 am somebody was buzzing at Don's door. First he thought the annoying sound was part of his strange dream. He was running for his life but could hardly move. Again the annoying sound intruded. Don woke up slowly. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck as he swung his legs out of bed. Dressed only in shorts he shuffled to the door.

"I'm coming", he growled and opened the door after he'd looked through the peephole.

"Dad?!" he said baffled and knuckled his eyes as if he was still dreaming.

"Hi Donnie," without further ado his father shoved him gently aside and entered, "I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked.

"No dad, it's so hot outside, I decided shorts will do it for today. I was just about to put a tie around my neck. What the hell are you doing here; it's six in the morning? Did you bring some breakfast along. Maybe some scrambled eggs in one pocket and donuts and coffee in the ...."

"Donnie, I came here because I'm concerned about Charlie, really concerned."

"You gotta be kidding," Don snarled as he went back into the bedroom and dropped onto the bed.

Alan followed him, "get up Donnie, you can't sleep any longer."

"Believe me Dad, I can," Don took one of his cushions and buried his face in it, "today, I do not need to be at the office before eleven and I was awake until four watching a hockey game. We can talk about Charlie later."

"Don I'm serious. When Charlie left this morning, he forgot his cell phone. I found it on the carpet. He hasn't checked in at the hotel, or even shown up. I need your help," Alan was pacing around nervously.

Don sat up sighing and ran his fingers through his hair leaving it spiky.

"Ok dad, just calm down. First I need some coffee. Want some, too?"

Alan shook his head, "I'm already a nervous wreck. No thanks."

He followed his eldest into the kitchen and took a seat at the kitchen bar. Then he told Don about last night.

"You know our whiz kid," Don smiled and sipped carefully at the mug, "he probably screwed up the new navigation system. He is a math genius but when it comes down to driving a car ...." Don sighed and put the mug back on the table.

"Might be possible," Alan ran his hand across his face, "nevertheless I'm concerned. Would I be here otherwise? I don't know Donnie, thinking about Craven ..."

Don put the coffee aside, it was too hot to drink anyway, "and what do you want me to do? Call the cavalry?" he snarled.

Alan didn't answer.

"Dad, I almost got suspended. I can't tell them to start a search for Charlie because you feel it in your bones something might be wrong."

"Do I ask too much? All I want is that you use your contacts," his father hissed, "You have ways and means..."

"Dad I can't use the LAPD for solving my private problems. Imagine what will happen when Charlie shows up in two hours and tells us he just got lost."

Alan got up, "okay so if you're not going to do something, than I will. I know his approximate route."

"Great dad, jump in your car and follow Charlie. You gotta be kidding me. He left his cell phone at home and for how long is he overdue now? One hour? One and a half?" He glanced at the kitchen clock. "Stop making yourself crazy."

His father had the hand already on the door knob as Don stopped him.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, "how about we wait until eight. Then if there's still no sign of Charlie, I'll do what I can ..."

Alan drew in a breath, "okay. Maybe I'm a little too concerned and suffering from mother hen syndrome or something. I'm on way to Kline & Sons. Just let me know ..."

"Sure dad, I'll keep in touch." Alan nodded briefly and left.

To suffer from a lack of sleep because you've spent the night in bed with a hot chick was one thing. But to have a lack of sleep because you spent almost all night in front of a TV and were dragged out of bed by your dad because he was worried about his youngest was something else. Therefore Don's look was more than grim when he entered the bullpen and found Megan lolling in her chair thoughtfully chewing at a pencil.

"Don't you have a home with a bed in it?" he muttered.

"Oh, Larry is having lots of fun with the guys from NASA again so I sat alone at home last night and watched some of those old black and white movies. I cried my eyes out and finished a big bowl of popcorn, which made me toss and turn in bed. I finally decided to watch the sunrise from the Hills and thought how beautiful life could be if there were no more Cravens running around. Then I drove to the office and took a closer look at files I'm not supposed to look at and compared them with these from the Lydia Wise case. And what is your excuse?"

"My dad had paid me a visit around six this morning," Don said and sat down on the edge of Megan's desk. "Charlie has gone to Bakersfield. He left his cell phone at home unfortunately and hasn't called yet. Now dad's concerned something might have happened to him because of Craven and blah blah blah."

Megan sat up straight, "and did you check on it?"

"I just called the LAPD and ask for accidents or current road blocks, nothing," Don said. "Maybe he's somewhere out there cursing his new navigation system and the dealer who sold it to him." He bit back a grin.

"And what else are you going to do?"

"I told dad to wait another hour. If Charlie doesn't show up by then we've got a problem. But I'm sure it won't be necessary."

Megan put her hand on his and gave him a confident smile, "everything's gonna be alright."

But it wasn't. Apparently, Charlie had vanished into thin air. For a missing person report Don had to wait about 48 hours. Too long, so he decided to ask Dt. Walker for help and he agreed without hesitating. At first they found nothing. But around 1 pm a cop from Bakersfield called in. He and a colleague were driving along a road when they discovered something strange that hadn't been there the day before: skid marks, shattered glass and parts from a bumper.

"And he's sure about that?" Don insisted.

Gary nodded, "absolutely, looks like someone had had an accident and tried to cover their tracks."

"Thanks Gary, I'm heading there as fast as I can."

He looked at his team and picked Colby, "I may need a helping hand out there," he said grimly.

"No problem," Colby jumped to his feet and got his jacket.

"It would be great if I can come with you guys," Theodor suggested.

Don shook his head, "thank you Junior. But as long as we don't know what's going on you better stay with Agent Reeves. Just tell her I'll give her a call as soon as I'm in Bakersfield."

"Yes, Sir I will," he said crestfallen.

Don considered informing his father. But he still really didn't know anything so he decided against it. It could be some mistake or whatever even if his gut instinct told him another story. As soon as he and Colby sat in the car Don hurried him up. He pushed the SUV at its maximum speed along the highway and didn't shy away from switching on the lights and siren. There was no conversation. When they arrived at the scene the road was already blocked.

One of the cops approached them, "Special Agent Eppes?"

He nodded once, "and Agent Colby," they flashed their badges.

"I'm Officer Formosa, the one who called Dt. Walker."

Don's heart hammered in his chest when he asked Formosa: "What did you find out?"

Formosa swallowed, "I wish I had better news. The skid marks are pretty clear and match with the tires your brother had on his car. The parts of the bumper we found are also a match."

Don clenched his jaw.

"We've sent the pieces of glass to the lab for further examination," Formosa told him, "Your brother's car has GPS tracking, right?"

Don nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately it doesn't work either."

"Someone had been very thorough," Colby muttered, "far too thorough."

The radio on Formosa's shoulder crackled briefly.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said and walked toward his car, "come in Dorothy."

"We just received a call from Bernhard Fox. He owns the wrecking yard ten miles from your location. He's sure the car you're looking for is there."

"Thank you Dorothy, out."

Don had listened to the conversation, "show me how to get to Fox's wrecking yard," he ordered.

"No problem, Sir." Before Formosa jumped into the car he barked some instructions at his colleagues.

Don thought the trip to Fox would last for ages. Actually it hardly took fifteen minutes.

Bernie was a skinny guy bothered by arthritis and his skin looked like tanned leather. He welcomed the three with a toothless smile and immediately led them to the car. The windshield was broken, the roof totally wrecked, a crane had lifted the car, no doubt about that.

Colby looked in alarm at Don, "it's Charlie's car, isn't it?"

Tears stung in Don's eyes and he started to shiver, "yes", was all he could say.

"Who brought the car in and when?" Colby asked.

"I'll get you the papers, just a second," the old man scurried nimbly like a weasel despite his handicap across the yard.

"I'm sorry, Agent Eppes," Formosa said regretfully, then he radioed Dt. Walker to inform him.

"Here we are", Fox croaked.

He showed Colby the clipboard with the relevant data, "Miller's Wrecking Service brought the car in."

He chewed his lower lip and scratched the back of his head.

"What's the matter?" Colby wanted to know.

"Now that I think about it ... something was wrong ..."

"What?" Don snapped and made the little man jump.

Meanwhile Colby was pulling on some latex gloves.

"I know each of Miller's drivers but this guy … He didn't seem familiar at all."

Formosa mumbled something into his radio. About two minutes later his suspicion was confirmed: One of Miller's vehicles had disappeared.

"This is an officially FBI investigation from now on," Don declared.

He was struggling for composure and thought how it would feel to slam Craven's head against a wall. But this was neither the right time nor the right place for personal feelings. He had to think straight and to use his razor-sharp mind. This was the only chance to save his younger brother.

"I'll arrange everything necessary. You'll get full support!" Formosa promised.

Suddenly Don's stomach churned. He rushed around a stack of wrecked cars and threw up. Then he fell on his knees into the dust. He opened his mouth for a silent cry. Never before in his entire life had he felt so helpless. But he had to be strong for Charlie. He couldn't let himself go or show any signs of weakness.

As Colby joined him he was already back on his feet.

"Are you okay, Don?" he asked concerned.

Don nodded numbly and tried to get rid of the dust. Then he pulled the car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Colby.

"Here you are. I think you should drive," his voice sounded strange, "did you find anything in Charlie's car? Blood ..."

"No, nothing like that Don. I also didn't find any of Charlie's personal belongings, no notebook, no bags. I bet there won't even be any fingerprints."

They went back to Fox and thanked him for his help. Formosa already sat in his patrol car.

Don strapped himself to the SUV's passenger seat, leant his head against the neck support and closed the eyes. He hated himself for ignoring his father's concerns. He felt like a traitor. It was his duty to protect Charlie and he'd failed miserably. When this was over, he would seriously consider quitting his job. tbc

_Thanks ALEO for your tremendous support!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

As Don and Colby returned to the office they felt like they were part of bee hive. Everyone was buzzing around hectically. The message of Charlie's disappearance had spread like a wildfire but nobody dared ask Don personally about it but that was hardly necessary anyway. His concerned face spoke volumes. It took Don enormous efforts to hide his true feelings and he wondered how long he would be able to grin and bear it.

"I ... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry," David muttered as Don passed by and shook his head.

Megan was in the kitchen and fidgeted around with the coffee machine. Don went over to her.

"Damnit! Thanks everyone. Is it asking too much to refill water and coffee? Why is it always me? Sometimes I feel like ..."

She didn't see the plate. It smashed on the ground.

"Oh no," she wailed.

"Let it go Megan, I'll take care of it", Don said gently.

"Today is really not my day", she complained.

Thankful for some distraction he cleaned up the mess. Megan leant against the door of the refrigerator and hid her eyes behind her right hand.

Don asked "everything OK?"

"No, shit, nothing's okay," she honestly replied, "I actually should be the one asking you." She wiped away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse, "I am so sorry Don. I don't understand why Charlie? Why not one of us?"

"Why not me?" Don added, "why couldn't I protect him they way I should?"

She shook her head, "please Don, stop blaming yourself. You did all you could."

"Really? Then why didn't I believe Craven?" he swallowed hard, "I really thought this damned son of a bitch was just acting up."

"That's not true Don and you know it," she objected, "you've done everything you could."

"Then why has Charlie been kidnapped?" Don insisted still staring to the ground.

"Look at me Don please, look at me."

Slowly he lifted his head. She put his hands on his shoulders.

Stressing every single word she said, "IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT."

"I wish I could believe that", he whispered.

She drew him into her arms and stroked tenderly over his back. He showed no reaction just waited for Megan to let him go again.

She didn't so he pulled from her embrace and turned on his heel.

"You can't hide your frustration forever," she said seriously, "it will eat away at you."

"And what do you want me to do? Break down and cry?" he snapped, "Who would that help? Definitely not Charlie!"

"It would help you", she tried to convince him, "of course you can ignore your feelings but that doesn't mean that they vanish sooner or later."

"I still got a lot to do, I don't have time for this bullshit," he made a dismissive gesture, straightened up and went back to the office.

If anyone had thought to see Special Agent Eppes in tears, they were damned wrong.

"Party's over guys go back to work," he barked at the people that had gathered around in the bullpen, "Go back to work, immediately."

Then he asked Colby to give him a ride to CalSci, he didn't want tell Amita and Milly about Charlie on the phone.

They were half on their way when Colby finally broke the silence, "don't you think it's time to pay another visit to our friend Craven?"

Don nodded slowly, "I just had the same idea. But isn't he now at Mount Mitchell?"

"You're right," Colby said, "I heard rumors that they were wanting to turn the place into another Fort Knox only they didn't have enough money and then Craven's lawyers were talking about going on a warpath so they decided against it. Now some uniforms are taking care of him. All very good friends of Gary, so we are welcome any time."

"Thanks for the information, Colb," Don said his eyes still glued on the street.

"It's my pleasure after the Janus list disaster; I'm glad you didn't kick my ass and send me to hell."

Colby recalled the worst time of his life for a split second. And it still gave him the creeps. He tried to imagine what his friend was going through now.

Don pulled his mobile out of the jacket pocket, opened it up and stared at the display. His thumb hovered above the keys and he wondered what he should tell his father.

Colby tightened his jaw, he could feel the tension in the air.

"Hi dad, it's me, Don", he said hoarsely, "We've found Charlie's car at a scrap yard in Bakersfield."

Silence.

"No, we don't know anything specific. We don't know where he might be."

Silence.

"I know, I'm doing everything that I can, dad. Please, I'm on my way to CalSci right now. When I'm done I'm coming to you."

He snapped the mobile shut and closed his eyes. Again he had this intense feeling to yell at someone or beat something to crap. Instead of he drew in a breath and held it for a minute.

It felt strange as Don entered the campus. He was hoping Charlie would come around the corner and outtalk him that everything had been a big mistake and that the chances stood one against one million blah blah blah and he would show him his blackboard to prove his calculations.

But nothing like that happened. God, he'd never thought he could miss his little brother that much.

On his way to Milly's office he came across Charlie's. He took a closer look at it. It seemed empty and deserted though dozens of books were piling up on the tables and various documents lay around.

Again Don waited for Charlie to show up. His look wandered over to the blackboard, Charlie's writing. A cold hand clutched his heart; he couldn't stand it any longer and went on.

Colby followed him, he was a good friend and he knew when he had to remain silent.

Before Don knocked at Milly's door, he asked Colby to wait outside. He nodded and positioned himself somewhere down the hall.

Don entered. To his surprise Amita was already there. Her red rimmed eyes told him that she had been crying. She jumped up from the chair and he tilted his head slightly.

He'd expected her to yell at him and heap reproaches on him. Instead she hugged and squeezed him and started to sob quietly. A little helplessly he looked around and met Milly's gaze for a second. She nodded slowly so he returned Amita's embrace shyly.

Shit, he wasn't the man with the great feelings and he was a lousy comforter. It had always been that way and it wouldn't change, that's for sure. Boys do not cry!

"I'm so sorry," man, he was so tired of these four words. Today, he's already heard it a hundred times. Amita pulled free of him and pulled a hanky out of her left sleeve.

She blew her nose, "your dad has called just before", she sniffled, "it's so terrible. Can you tell us more?"

He would have preferred Colby on his side now, anyway, the ex-marine that stood like a rock. As if Don had needed something like that? Someone who stood like a rock? Bullshit! He called himself a fool.

Then he told Amita and Milly what they had. It wasn't much.

"I shouldn't have sent him to Bakersfield", Milly said all of a sudden, "not under these circumstances. I feel like I gave the kidnappers a hand. I hope you can forgive me."

She was cleaning her glasses and Don thought if she kept on going none of the glass would be left.

"That's crap Milly," he replied brusquely, "it could've happened anywhere."

"But it happened when Charlie was on the way to a lecture to which I had sent him."

She took a closer look at her glasses and still was not satisfied with the result.

"Milly, please. Don is right, none of us can say what would have happened if Charlie would have stayed. Maybe they would have kidnapped him from the campus," Amita said, "or from in front of his home. These people don't have any scruples and I think after what I know about this case so far Craven doesn't stop until he gets what he want. It was just a question of time."

Don blew out a breath.

"Milly if someone has to take responsibility for Charlie than it's me. I'm the FBI Agent. I've the knowledge and the means to prevent them from doing this but I failed ... miserably."

His voice trailed off.

Amita shook her head intensely, "Jesus Christ, don't go there Don. How could you know how they would chose? It could've been your father as good as me or Larry or you. I'm sure they've seen me, too. You're only human."

"I AM AN FBI AGENT," he contradicted obstinately; "I am trained in such cases. If I'm not able to protect my own family what the hell gives me the right to protect others, strangers?"

"Don, you're not seriously questioning your abilities?" Milly got into it, "this is not a good idea, if you want to help your brother. I can't think of anyone else who'd be more capable to solve this case."

"Thanks for your confidence," Don said, "but it was me who put Charlie's and anyone else's life at stake."

"Your father is, however, of the same opinion as I am," she stated, "he trusts in you and your abilities."

Don's jaw dropped. He hadn't been prepared for such a statement. He glanced at his watch.

"Please excuse me, I've to pay a visit to my father and then I have to go back to the office. I'll keep in touch with you."

He slammed the door.

The two women exchanged their looks, "Don doesn't have an easy life with Don," Milly muttered.

Amita got up and went over to the window, "Don is, body and soul, an FBI agent. That's good on one side because it is that which will save Charlie, but on the other side it could kill Don one day."

Facing his own father was the most difficult thing Don had done today, even after Milly had informed him about Alan's point of view. The welcome home wasn't overwhelming. Don avoided any physical contact with his father; not once did he look him in the eyes.

"Why don't you ask Colby to come in? He shouldn't stay in the car", asked Alan when he saw that Don's colleague remained outside.

Don shook his head and dropped onto the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and fought back the tears desperately.

"Son, you look really crappy," Alan muttered, "do you want something to eat or drink?"

"DAD!" Don yelled at him, "Stop doing it. Stop doing like nothing had happened. Charlie has been kidnapped because I fucked up."

Alan sat down next to him, "so that's what you're thinking."

"Yes, I do. So does everyone around me. They just don't want to say it."

"Don, nobody can escape his destiny. You know that as well as I do."

"Dad, don't. I don't need your "spiritual support". I'd prefer you yell at me and tell me that I'm an ignorant dickhead and that you are mad about me and that I totally screwed it up. Only then I'd find my freedom and can go back to work."

Alan laughed bitterly, "Sorry, I can't do you that favor. I'm not blaming you for Charlie's disappearance and Charlie also wouldn't do it. Believe me."

He kept talking for a while. Don hardly noticed anything of it. At a certain point he couldn't stand it any longer like he couldn't stand his brother's deserted office and left.

His stomach churned, the lump in his throat was choking him. His body felt numb. But he was driven by his concentrated hate and anger. A look was enough for Colby to know, where they would go from here.

Mount Mitchell was a renowned psychiatric clinic in Los Angeles.

Don literally stormed to the counter and banged his badge on the desk, "FBI, where's Adrian Craven?"

The nurse frowned and eyed him up closely, "could you please restrain yourself a little, Sir. We are very concerned about the well-being of our patients here."

"How nice," he replied laconically, "then could you please be so kind and tell me where the hell we'll find Adrian Craven?"

"Just a second," demonstratively she turned her back on the two agents, reached for the phone and dialed a number, "Dr. Hall? Andrea here, could you please come down to the entrance. There are two gentlemen from the FBI who say they would like to talk to Mr. Craven."

"Ma'am what's so hard to understand?" Don interrupted her phone call, "I don't want to talk to any doctor, I want to talk to Adrian Craven."

"Dr. Hall is responsible for Mr. Craven; he'll be with you in a few minutes."

Don was close to losing it, his face turned crimson and the veins on his neck stood out.

Colby snapped his cell shut, "Don, he's in the fourth floor. Room number 409."

"Excellent," Don cast a devastating look at the nurse and went with Colby to the elevator.

"You're not allowed ..."

"I appreciate your help, Andrea ", Don hollered out sarcastically before the doors closed.

It wasn't hard to find Craven's room. Two uniforms stood in front of it.

"Hi officers, we're agent Eppes and Colby," Don said while he and Colby were holding up their ID's.

"Dt. Walker already informed us about your "visit". Unfortunately, this is the wrong time. Craven has just been violent. Quite nasty and they had to sedate him. Even an atomic explosion wouldn't wake him up."

"We'll see," Don muttered.

He'd already seen the doctor stepping out of the elevator and hurrying toward them.

"Wake him up," Don barked.

"That's impossible. It would harm the patient's health."

The doctor was shorter than Don so the agent furiously loomed over him, "and if you don't it could harm _your_ health. Now wake him up, goddamnit. I don't give a fuck about this son of a bitch. He is the only one who knows where my brother is."

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose, "I truly doubt that. Mr. Craven has had no visitors and he's under heavy medication."

Before one of policemen or Colby could react Don's arm shot forward and gripped at the doctor's neck pushing him against the wall with all the strength he possessed, "once more, I don't belong to Craven's Fan club. I don't give a fuck about his condition, like he gave a fuck about the lives of seventeen people he'd slaughtered. He's also responsible for my brother being kidnapped. So wake him up or I swear I'll go and take care of it myself." tbc

_A huge thank you to ALEO my beta!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Five minutes later Don, Colby, the doctor and the two uniforms stood around Craven's bed.

"Your behavior will have consequences ", the doctor mumbled, "I hope you don't think you'll get away with it."

"Stop talking doctor. You better wake this bastard up NOW."

The doctor took a syringe up and injected the fluid into Craven's veins.

"It will take a couple of minutes", he said.

They just stood there in silence and waited for a reaction. Don would have liked nothing more than to grab Craven by his neck and shake him. The eyelids of the serial killer finally fluttered open about five minutes later.

"Craven, do you hear me?" Don yelled impatiently, "Rise and shine, asshole."

Sweat had beaded on the doctor's forehead, he wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat, "give the man some time. His body ..."

"Shut up, doc," Don hissed, "wake up ugly beauty, we gotta talk."

Craven opened his eyes slowly, he tried to move his hands, but these were strapped to the bed.

He focused his eyes. When he recognized Don he gave him a smug grin, "hello Agent Eppes. It wouldn't have been necessary to pay me a visit, anyway, but thank you." His voice was weak.

"If you don't tell me what has happened to my brother, you won't be needing tranquilizers anymore," Don yelled at him.

Craven swallowed, "my I have a glass of water please? My throat ..." He coughed.

"You can have a punch in your ugly face," Don threatened, "tell me first what I want to know."

"You had your chance Eppes and you didn't use it."

Don grabbed Craven's neck and started to strangle him, "you self-aggrandizing asshole. Do you really think someone could stop me from beating the crap out of you?"

"For Heaven's sake," the doctor hollered out and looked at the two cops. They just watched. So he decided rushing from the room saying he was going to call Security.

Craven's face turned crimson, "do it and your brother is lost forever", he gasped.

Don's head was spinning. He was undecided. But neither Colby nor the policeman moved an inch. They knew that Charlie's life was at stake and that they needed any information they could get.

Don's breath came in shallow rasps, the adrenaline rushed through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to snap this moron's neck. But that wouldn't help Charlie at all. So he let him loose.

"This was very stupid agent, very stupid," Craven croaked.

They all could see Don's fingerprints on his neck.

Before Don could reply they doctor returned followed by two human bulldogs, " FBI or not. I'm telling you to leave this room and this clinic," he snapped and indicated the door, "get the hell out of here, immediately."

Don still hesitated.

"Mr. Davis, Mr. Conroy, please escort these gentlemen outside."

Colby was less emotional. For him the man in the white coat looked more like Rumpelstiltskin for the poor and not like a doctor.

"Don't worry, we're already on our way out", he said smugly, "there's no need for special treatment."

He pushed Don gently outside.

Back in the SUV and slipping the key into the ignition Colby stated dryly, "You know this whole thing was bullshit. However, I understand. I probably would have acted just the same."

Don's rigid look went through the windshield into nowhere. He'd simply "switched off".

Back at the office he took off his jacket, dropped into his chair and folded his arms on the desk. Exhausted he rested his head on them. He felt empty and worn out.

Megan took Colby aside and went with him into the kitchen.

"Why didn't you stop Don?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don put his hands around the doctor's neck, didn't he?"

"You already know that?" Colby was stunned.

"What do you think? Also that he then forced the doctor to wake Craven. The AD is livid with Don; I'm now in charge of Charlie's case."

"And what about Don?"

"He'll be suspended", Megan put a hand to her stomach feeling miserable.

"He can't take the case away from him, I don't believe this ", Colby shook his head, "what the hell is going on in here? They treat Don like a criminal while Craven's treated like a princess. That's ridiculous."

David joined them, "Megan I just returned from the locker room, there are rumors that they want to suspend Don."

Nervously she chewed at her lower lip, "that's right, I've been assigned to take over the case."

"Shit," David said.

All three looked worriedly at Don. He still had his head on his arms and had not moved.

"Why don't they just pull him out because of prejudice? Why are they going to suspend him all of a sudden?" asked David.

"You remember the thing with the shrink not too long ago?"

"Don't tell me they gonna use this against him, Meg. That's old hat," Colby hissed, "His younger brother has been kidnapped, for Christ's sake. What they expect him to do? Go about his job merrily whistling without giving a damn?"

Megan shrugged, "maybe, I don't know. But first of all he should stay away from Craven."

Colby looked Megan squarely into the eyes, "you know there is no way that we can exclude him from this case, suspension or not. He has a right to know what's going on and ..."

Megan put a hand on his left lower arm, "relax Colby, I do not intend to withhold information from Don. They'll just be keeping a close eye on us, we gotta be careful."

In a tone bordering on conspiracy she added, "Boys, don't let it get you down. We're going to find Charlie, no matter what."

They nodded at each other, equally determined.

The ringing of the telephone roused Don from his lethargy.

"Eppes?"

"The AD wants to see you right ahead," Dotty's normally friendly voice was somewhat muted.

"I'm on my way," Don mumbled.

He dragged himself to his feet, making a short stopover in the men's room to splash cold water onto his face. He felt sick to his stomach as his reflection proved.

Dotty's usually friendly smile died on her lips when she saw Don. "I've heard about what's happened to Charlie. I don't know what to say, I'm so sorry."

He lifted his hand, "its okay, Dotty. I appreciate it. May I go in?"

She nodded.

To Don's surprise Director Vasquez was also at the AD's office. One chair was still available. Don just took a seat without being asked.

"I think we know why you are here," the AD said.

"Certainly not to discuss my promotion," Don replied with gallows humor.

"We've just received a very disturbing call from Mount Mitchell. Did you have to turn into Rambo over there, Special Agent?"

Don pursed his lips slightly, "what do you want to hear? I'm currently running on adrenaline, as you might know. I think I can spare you the details."

"I'm really sorry about your brother but that doesn't give you the right to go postal in a clinic. You are obviously not thinking clearly." The AD shook his head.

Vasquez cleared his throat and said, "We came to the conclusion that it would be the best for you and for us to suspend you for awhile. What has happened to your family is tragic, but this is no excuse for your behavior."

Don swallowed repeatedly trying to suppress his anger and the big lump that rose in his throat.

"I take your silence as an approval and ask you to give me your badge, your weapon and your ID, please," the left corner of the AD's mouth twitched a little.

"Don't think that this is going to stop me searching for my brother," Don muttered while he put the things he was asked for on the glassy desk of his boss.

"Don, we appreciate Professor Eppes and his abilities as an extraordinary support to our agency," the AD said, "and I assure you we will be doing all we ..."

"Hah! So you suspend the only person who knows Craven and his dirty tricks?" Don got up and applauded.

"The fish rots from the head down," he said cryptically, "what else does Novak have up his sleeve that scares the crap out of you, gentlemen?"

Both men glared at him.

Don shrugged, "am I wrong? Oh well, I forgot I'm just a simple FBI agent. I don't have a clue of what's going on in here or what games you're playing. Just as I don't know the rules to be part of this game."

"I'm going to ignore your allusions, Eppes," the AD said harshly and wiped away the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip, "we're done, goodbye."

But Don had already closed the door. He went back to his desk and took his jacket from the chair. Megan came toward him.

He closed his eyes for a beat, "don't say it, Megan. I'm so sick of it, I don't wanna hear it."

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"That you are sorry."

"That's not what I'm going to tell you. I just want to inform you that Colby, David and I do not intend to exclude you from the inquiries. You will always be up-to-date."

He drew in a breath and looked her squarely into the eyes, "I didn't honestly expect anything else from your side."

"And what are you going to do now?" Colby wanted to know.

"First I'll pay a visit to my dad and then I'll go home and try to catch some sleep."

He took a packet of chewing gum from the topmost drawer, "take care guys, we'll stay in touch."

He nodded at them briefly and left the building with his head up high.

"I hope he won't screw up again", Megan mumbled.

123456

"Hi Dad, it's me!" Don yelled as he entered the house but he got no answer.

He took off his jacket and hung it on the hook next to the door. The silence felt strange and he found it absolutely depressing. He could even hear the ticking of the grandfather clock. He was up for a beer so he went to the refrigerator and took one out. He cracked the cap at the edge of the kitchen table, something his father would've killed him for, but he was not here.

Don strolled through the house. Something almost magically lured him into the garage, Charlie's refuge. Charlie was omnipresent. By the black boards, the chalk, his writing, the table in the middle of the room where files and books where piling up, simply everything. Don's throat tightened.

Lost in thought he ran his hand along the frame of the black board, "where are you Charlie?" he whispered, "What have they done to you?"

The suppressed rage unloaded itself suddenly. With a loud cry he threw the half empty bottle straight across the room. The glass split and the liquid left an ugly spot on the opposite wall.

Never ever before he'd lost so much control over his life. With his back against the wall he slid down until he sat his right foot bent and the left one extended on the cold concrete floor.

Again and again he beat the back of the head against the wall making inarticulate sounds. Helplessly he lifted one hand to ... He had no idea what he wanted to do so he dropped it limp at his side again. The lump in his throat seemed to be the size of a football. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and there was nothing he could do prevent them. Pictures from the past flooded his mind. He saw himself in school and at home together with Charlie at various celebrations. Good memories as well as some not so good ones.

Later he wasn't able to tell for how long he'd been sitting in the garage. The signal of an incoming SMS on his cell finally jolted him back to reality. With the back of his hand he wiped away the tears and opened his cell automatically thumbing through the keys to open the message.

He stared at the screen for quite a while until his brain accepted the message that came from an unknown caller ID: **_Tomorrow evening at 10 p.m., if you want to get some inside information about Craven's case meet me at the dilapidated factory building at the corner of Fortuna and Crest alone! Someone who's on your side. _**

Don's instincts were aroused immediately. He rang a tech at the bureau and hoped the guy didn't know about his suspension. He was lucky and arranged for a trace of the phone number which got him nowhere, unfortunately. The message had been sent from an un-registered prepaid cell. tbc

_A huge thank you to ALEO for betaing! You did a tremendous job!_


End file.
